


Scales of Magnitude

by pennflinn



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, BAMF Women, Canon Compliant, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossing Timelines, Episode: s01e15 Out of Time, Everyone Needs A Hug, Female Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Barry Allen/Iris West, Minor Eddie Thawne/Iris West, POV Female Character, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5575576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennflinn/pseuds/pennflinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the original timeline, Iris West watches a tsunami overtake her city and Caitlin Snow discovers the dead body of one of her best friends.</p><p>But with Mark Mardon on the loose and Eobard Thawne's mysterious disappearance looming over them, not everything is as it seems--and their story is nowhere near finished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This fic was a spontaneous idea a few months ago, which blossomed into something much longer than originally intended, but I'm very excited to share another multi-chapter fic with you all. Because I'm obviously very interested in alternate timelines and because I apparently like making myself sad, I wanted to explore the aftermath of the tsunami in 1x15. This fic is very Iris and Caitlin centric, but there will be love for our other favorite characters in one form or another later on.
> 
> This takes place in the original timeline immediately following 1x15, so spoilers through that episode. Also very mild spoilers through the season 1 finale as we move further through the story.
> 
> Without further ado, let the angst fest begin!

"I'm sorry. I didn't want you to find out this way."

For a moment, the wind and the taste of a rainstorm lingered in Iris' senses. Storm clouds thundered overhead, but the depth of the kiss, the way everything seemed to explode around her as Barry's hands cupped her face, overwhelmed even the elements. Instead of drowning, she felt inexplicably that she'd been pulled to safety, oxygen rushing into her lungs.

Then things changed in an instant, and Barry was no longer there—in his place was the man in the red suit, the one she'd helped build, the one she'd helped _create_.

"Go."

He was gone.

His image lingered in front of her even as he disappeared in a burst of lightning. Her friend, _her Barry_ , standing there on the grass, clothed in red from head to toe. A mask drawn low over his eyes, his stance more confident than she'd ever seen before.

And vanished, fittingly, in a flash.

She would've liked to say that she'd known all along. She would've liked to say that she'd felt it long before now, even from the moment that he'd been struck by that lightning. All of those months in the hospital bed, all of those months wondering and worrying. She would've liked to say that those months meant something.

The truth was, seeing Barry and the Flash merge before her very eyes, especially after the mind-melting kiss that preceded it, hit her like a tidal wave.

Also, fittingly.

As the very real tidal wave made its approach, she dashed up the slopes along with the dozens of other people who were trying to get to safety. They didn't know that the Flash was in their midst, not yet, and their screams reflected the unknown. They would know soon enough, though, when the Flash-when Barry-stopped the wave.

Because he always did. He always saved the day. Iris realized that now. Her Barry always saved the day.

At the top of the hill, she turned around to face the oncoming storm.

It had grown since she and Barry had first seen it, since he'd called Caitlin-it was all coming together now, the STAR labs team and Barry and the Flash-and the sky was now almost entirely gray. The tidal wave, a sheet of smoky glass engulfing the horizon, approached steadily.

And there, on the beach, was what she had always recognized as the streak. A blur of movement. No color from this far away, just speed. The remnants of speed, the dust particles and sand that took to the air around the line of movement that Barry was creating. He picked up momentum and the line grew more solid, back and forth along the beach, where there would surely be evidence of his run for days to come before the normal tide washed it away. By then, Central City would have recognized the feat, and they would be broadcasting their hero on every station.

A wind column, or a wind barrier, rose up. It, too, was barely visible, but through its ripples Iris could see the tidal wave pause, as if considering its next move. Caitlin's plan was working, then. Suspended, the water began to shrink. Other people kept fleeing around her, but she stayed steadfast, heart pumping, the exhilaration of Barry's victory surging through her. She would watch.

Then everything collapsed, and the deafening roar of water overcame her.

Frozen in place, she watched the air barrier disappear, the line of Barry's movement cut short, the water crash forward onto the beach. While the tidal wave had been drained of much of its power, the force of the water crashed forward, rushing toward her, overtaking the city. Somewhere, there was a rumble of a building buckling.

She stayed there only a moment more, watching the destruction, watching the water crash through the park toward the hill where she stood. She waited, speechless, for the victory that had already collapsed.

Then, terrified, she ran.

* * *

Caitlin clicked uselessly at the screen, but to no avail. It had gone blank. One minute, Barry had been running like normal, his body surging with power, breathing level and intense as it always was when he was determined. She could usually hear it through his comm, the panting and the grunts of resolve.

She'd been monitoring particularly closely this time, considering the speed he would have to reach in order to stop the wave, but everything had looked relatively normal. She would have to check him out, definitely, once he returned, but his heart and his muscles were taking the exertion exceptionally well.

Then, nothing.

It was exactly like the time Bette had blown up his suit—one minute there, the next, completely gone. No indication of what had happened. Like a computer shutting down after running out of battery. Complete blackout, complete silence.

"Barry?" she asked. "Are you there?" She hoped against hope that something had simply malfunctioned, that his monitors had simply gone offline from the extreme speed. Besides, he was too busy to talk, right? He hadn't yet reached the velocity required to completely stop the wave, so he was much too focused to respond.

And, as much as she didn't want to think about the possibility, she would still receive feedback from the suit if he'd been overtaken by the wave.

Wouldn't she?

Doubt creeping into her mind, picked up her phone, then set it down. He wouldn't have his phone on him, either. Instead, she moved to another computer bank and clicked it on, navigating to the news station that they'd had bookmarked for months.

Instantly, her heart sank.

_"_ _Residents are being told to evacuate the area immediately…more damage could be oncoming, casualties estimated in the thousands…"_

On the screen, a shaky live feed from a helicopter showed the shoreline—a shoreline now decimated by water, residual waves still tearing forward at trees and buildings that were unlucky enough to be too close. A wasteland of water, a tickertape of red:

_Tidal wave of unprecedented proportion hits Central City._

There was no time to call anyone now, she realized. She had to find Cisco, consult with him for the next course of action. Why he wasn't already up there with her, she couldn't fathom—perhaps he was watching, calculating from somewhere downstairs.

She took the stairs two at a time, calling out Cisco's name as she went. The further down she went into the belly of the building, the more her gut twisted. At the edges of her mind, past the immediate panic about the tidal wave and Barry's absence, she was beginning to remember the encounter she'd just come from. Wells' empty wheelchair.

She wondered, as she sprinted through the halls, if she should be quieter about her search for Cisco, if she should be worried about Wells' secrets. While she couldn't fathom yet why or how Wells had kept his mobility a secret, she was too consumed by fear of the world outside now to focus on any of that.

That is, until she rounded a corner and noticed a still figure splayed on the ground.

"Cisco?" she called again. The long black hair spread across the floor was her first clue, as was the bright yellow image on the front of his shirt. Something was off about his shirt, though, something glistening, wet, dark—

Her approach was cautious at first, her steps faltering as she tried to understand why he was lying there in the middle of the room, why he hadn't responded to her calls. Then, as she came through the doorway, she picked up speed, moving into a sprint, her heels clicking and sliding on the floor.

The realization hit her before her knees hit the floor. Cisco's chest was soaked with blood, and his eyes were open and glazed. She knew, instantly, that she was too late, but her hands searched out his wrists, searched for a pulse that wasn't there.

The stillness, the coldness, washed through her, and she found herself mouthing soundless words, searching for something that wasn't there. Her hands found Cisco's chest, ready to staunch bleeding that had already stopped, but her arms could not support her and she fell, shaking, forward. The outside world disappeared. A bigger wave, a bigger catastrophe, had crashed through the lab itself.

Her first cry was more of a wail. It resonated through the empty halls, around the space that was too big now for her—the echo would remain there for hours, a sound heavier than it should have been, trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More angst ahead, but things will be picking up shortly. Because I'm leaving town for New Year's, an update likely won't be happening until next week-but have a great last few days of 2015, and please let me know what you think in the comments below!
> 
> Till next time (and, if I'm permitted to make a dad joke, see you next year),
> 
> Penn


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your responses on the first chapter of this story! I have internet again, so I figured it was only fair to post the next one. I'm hoping to get onto a schedule of posting twice a week-Sundays and Wednesdays.
> 
> Enjoy!

Mind blank, Caitlin raised a fist to knock at the door. The skies were still gray, darkening the entire world despite the fact that it was still late afternoon. She'd been careful to scrub away the blood from her knuckles, but the wine-red of the door was enough reminder against the paleness of her skin. She lowered her fist.

What was she expecting, anyway? Joe wasn't home. And she doubted Iris was.

She paused on the doorstep for a few more minutes, considering. She hadn't locked her car, but that didn't seem important. Nothing, really, seemed important. Nothing mattered. Her hand found the doorknob. It turned without resistance, and the door opened.

Sometimes, when she had too much to drink, she could move through life in time skips. One minute she would be on the dance floor, the next at the bar, with no recollection of the time spent moving from one place to another. She would consider her actions, decide they were not important. Time was of no consequence.

It was like that now, as she moved through the house. In one step, she was in the entryway. The next time she took stock of her location, she was in the kitchen, staring at a family photo of Iris, Barry, and Joe taped to the refrigerator. It looked to be a few years old, judging from the length of Barry's hair and the youth of Iris' face. They looked so young, so happy. In the background of the photo, it was spring. Green leaves populated the edges of the picture, the sun casting golden light around the faces of the photo's subjects. Caitlin stared.

Then, in a blink, she was in the living room. Again, unfortunately, she found herself face to face with photos—this time a line of them, strung along the mantelpiece like Christmas lights. The happy faces in the frames made her stomach clench, and she again reached for her phone to dial up Barry.

She couldn't face the possibility, couldn't even fathom the possibility, that he was gone too. The mere suggestion of it at the back of her mind seared white hot. If she reached out to touch it, she would be consumed.

The phone rang to silence. Maybe he'd left it somewhere. He'd been known to do that.

The pictures bore into her, and the living room was in such a state of familiarity and peace that she was compelled to leave. Another time shift found her in the stairwell, plodding up stair after stair. Stairs she knew she would never stop climbing.

Then she was there, in Barry's bedroom doorway, listening to the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway. The further she stepped into the room, the less she could hear the noise. As she preferred the silence, she ducked in further. The red curtains, the stacks of science magazines on the desk, the single sock that had not managed to reach the hamper: these things welcomed her, comforted her, in a way that the cheerful photographs couldn't. A few steps more and she was at the closet, her feet kicking against a pair of running shoes.

In the quiet, she sat, pushed herself up against the back wall of the closet among the shoes and the rows of pressed shirts. Even with the musky scent of the rubber and wafts of dryer sheets, she could still unmistakably pinpoint Barry. When she closed her eyes and listened to the silence, she could almost imagine he was there.

The world passed inconsequentially, through scent and silence, so it scared her half to tears when her phone rang in her pocket. She scrambled for it, crushing it against her ear without even looking at the name on the screen.

"Barry?"

"No, Caitlin, it's Iris." Iris. For some reason, it had never even occurred to Caitlin to call Iris. The other woman sounded scared, wound tight like a spring. "We need to talk."

Something hard lodged in Caitlin's throat. "I know."

Without taking a breath, Iris continued. "Barry—he didn't stop the tidal wave. I don't know where he is."

The realization that Iris knew, that Iris had found out, bloomed dimly beneath the ache in Caitlin's chest. "Barry told you?"

"Right before he ran off to stop the wave," Iris said impatiently. "Listen, I need you and Cisco and Dr. Wells to help me. I'm on my way to STAR."

A monumental spike erupted in Caitlin's chest, her heart leaping over itself in an effort to reach equilibrium. "Don't go there. Come home. I'm here."

There was a pause as Iris took in this information. Then: "Okay."

The phone beeped as it was shut off. Apparently Iris had needed no more information.

Caitlin let the phone drop to her lap and readjusted herself in the closet. And waited. And tried not to think.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she heard the front door close downstairs. Had she remembered to close it herself when she came in? Or had she left it hanging wide, like the opening evidence of a crime scene? Whatever the case, she should have at least locked it-people did crazy things when faced with a natural disaster. They became violent. They became something other than themselves.

Natural disasters were not the only thing that prompted such changes, she supposed. Also grief.

Past the silence and security of the closet, she heard footsteps on the ground floor, a circuit of the house. Then the creak of the stairs, like old horror films or the thrill of sneaking downstairs on Christmas morning. Iris appeared in the doorway of Barry's bedroom seconds later. She cast a cursory glance into the room and jumped backward when she spotted Caitlin.

"Jesus," she said, putting a hand to her heart. "Cait, you scared me."

Caitlin said nothing. Iris moved further into the bedroom.

"I, uh…I just came back from the beach." Caitlin had always known Iris to be composed-vibrant, but composed. She'd often envied that vibrancy, that passion, but now it was nowhere to be seen. Iris' eyes were clouded, her hair windblown and damp and sticking together in clumps, her once-black boots caked with mud and sand. Mascara left a streak down one side of her face, though whether it was from crying or the increasing storm, Caitlin couldn't be sure.

Seeing that Caitlin was not moving from her haven in the closet, Iris continued. "Eddie is still looking for my dad. And I just finished searching the beach for…" Her breath caught, and she swallowed it. "For Barry."

Caitlin's heart sunk. "He still hasn't contacted you?"

"I think—I mean, there's no way—the wave was too big."

The fractures split across her face, and suddenly she was crying, standing there in front of the closet. Caitlin's hands lay useless in her lap as she watched. This should be the part where she should comfort the other woman, she thought dimly, but she could only sit there in silence. Iris' pain fed selfishly into her own, pushing her deeper.

Still, Iris did what Caitlin could not ask of her; with a stuttering breath, she took a step forward, sank into the closet. Her shoulders trembled against Caitlin's as she cried.

"I was looking for his body."

At this, Caitlin's instincts finally kicked in. She reached across for Iris' hand and clutched it in her own, squeezing it as much as she could. She did not know how much strength she had left, or if it was enough to provide any comfort, but still she dug her fingers into the softness of the other woman's palm. Iris' damp hair draped across Caitlin's jacket as she leaned her head on Caitlin's shoulder.

Caitlin hadn't realized how much she'd been relying on Barry being there, on Barry being alive, until then. If anyone could do anything to help, it would've been him. She'd convinced herself of that; she'd convinced herself that with Barry simply _being there_ , they could figure out a way to fix everything that had gone so wrong at STAR.

Now Barry was not there, and the final piece of her shattered world collapsed.

"Cisco's gone," Caitlin said suddenly, her voice breaking. "It was Dr. Wells…I was with him, and then he was gone, and then he…he killed Cisco."

Already these things sounded like facts, not like the destructive forces that they were. Already she felt herself moving into the past tense, when these things were still so real, still so present, still so future.

Iris may have breathed an "I'm sorry," but the truth was, the two were both so consumed by grief that their grieving was no longer separate. Their words were the same, their thoughts, their tears.

They sat there together at the back of that closet, clutching each other's hands as if that might hold in their hearts, with Barry Allen's shirts hanging stagnant around them as they wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts below. Again, a bit of a slow start (and lots of glorious angst), but things will be picking up shortly! See you Wednesday.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's already Wednesday! Let the angst train continue.
> 
> Enjoy!

There was a hole in Caitlin's rain boot. Unfortunate, considering the purpose of rain boots.

Another puddle submerged her foot, and yet more rainwater soaked through her socks. She sloshed through the streets and tried not to make eye contact with anyone passing her. Everyone-well, Iris, since that was the only person she was currently in contact with-had warned her not to go outside so soon after the tsunami, but she couldn't stand being cooped up inside or in a car. She had to see the damage herself. She was masochistic in that way, she supposed.

She and Iris had dared to turn on the news the day after it happened, but the video could in no way capture the scope of the city's chaos. On the edge of town, by the shoreline, houses and low-lying buildings had been damaged or else completely toppled. Water sloughed through the streets of the city, rushing past businesses that had been evacuated too soon to put up "closed" signs. A few of them had already been victim to looting, as evidenced by the broken windows and destroyed storefronts. Only a few people dared go out in the streets like Caitlin, and even fewer dared to wander in some of the further streets, where water rushed as high as their knees.

In addition to the water in the streets, the skies had retained their dull gray sheen since the day of the attack. Thunder boomed occasionally, and a steady drizzle of rain had become standard. Given how apocalyptic everything felt, it was hard to remember that the tidal wave had wreaked its destruction only two days earlier.

On flickering news screens in the better part of town, newscasters speculated about the cost of rebuilding parts of the city, estimated casualties, played footage of search and rescue teams kicking open doors of homes and scaling down helicopter ladders to rescue people on rooftops. On the banner that stretched along the bottom of the screen, the words "The Flash: dead or missing?" scrolled ceaselessly. People guessed. Couples in the street muttered to one another, asking about Central City's hero, swapping stories of things they had seen at the beach that day. A red blur along the sand, sucking away at the tidal wave that threatened them. A red blur that disappeared as the wave crashed down.

Something rumbled in the distance-thunder, or the crumbling of a severely damaged building? Caitlin looked up at the sound and, in the corner of her eye, spotted a lone figure in a red hoodie. It was a boy, looking to be around eight or nine, walking by himself past an abandoned convenience store. His fists created lumps in his pocket, his shoulders hunched. Caitlin veered off of her aimless path toward him.

"Are you alright?" she asked, taking note of the dirt streaked down his cheek and the smudged nature of his eyes. "Do you need help?"

He looked at her, considered, and ran.

His feet splashed in the puddles, but Caitlin didn't pursue him, just watched him go. Where was he running to? Or what was he running from? Her stomach turned at the thought of it, at the thought of the other people fleeing from buildings or worse, trapped.

Another rumble. She ducked her head and tried to block out the sound.

Central City, or at least this part of it, was nothing short of a disaster zone.

Safety, Caitlin thought, was an illusion.

* * *

Soaked through, Iris closed the door behind her and kicked off her boots. Her fingers were numb from the cold and the wet, and she fumbled with the buttons of her coat. When she'd managed to get it off and hang it on the coat rack, she pulled out her phone to text Caitlin.

 _It's bad out here_ , read the last text from her. Understatement if there ever was one, Iris thought. She typed out her response.

_Made it home. text when you're back. stay safe_

The two of them had been staying at Joe's place since the incident, Iris curled up in her childhood bed—now a guest bedroom—and Caitlin in Barry's. Although there wasn't much they would be able to do against Wells if he was truly the Reverse Flash, Iris and Caitlin agreed that it was best to stay close, not alone. Seeing as Eddie had taken it upon himself to work nonstop on finding Joe, there wasn't much reason for Iris to go back to the apartment, anyway, and she didn't like the idea of Caitlin alone at her own apartment at night.

No response from Caitlin, but Iris guessed she was still wandering through the city trying to pick up clues, as Iris was. Or, at least, that's what they were trying to tell themselves. Picking up clues. The only useful thing they could possibly do.

Exhausted from wandering up and down the beach all day, Iris collapsed onto the couch and flicked on the TV. It had become habit to check the news. Nothing changed, but it felt productive to catch up on new developments. She was a reporter, after all, and with everything Caitlin had filled her in with about metahumans, she figured she might have the ability to spot something a newscaster might not.

"Two days after the disastrous tidal wave that devastated Central City," said the newscaster, a put-together brunette who appeared curiously passive about the incident, "rescue teams are still working to evacuate civilians. The rubble surrounding the old East Bank has now been all but cleared, and people trapped there have been transported to Middlebury Hospital. As of now, there is still no update on the status of the Flash, and many Central City residents are beginning to question if he was killed in the wave. We're live with John Bradden in the West District, where witnesses say the Flash made an appearance hours before the wave struck."

The camera switched to another reporter, a balding man in a bright blue raincoat that was cinched tightly under his chin. He launched into his opening statements. Beside him, two witnesses, shriveled by the rain, waited for their chance to speak whatever truth they now believed. Iris muted the TV.

A minute later, the front door of the house opened. Iris swung around, realizing that she hadn't locked the door-a habit that she would need to get back into-and crumpled in relief when she saw Eddie's pop of blonde hair.

"Hey, babe," he said, closing the door heavily and shrugging off his sopping wet jacket. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. "Why are you still up?"

"It's only 8:00," Iris said, frowning.

"Oh." Eddie rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. "I guess it all kind of starts to look the same."

"You should get some sleep," Iris said. "You're no good to anyone if you're asleep on your feet."

"I could say the same to you," Eddie responded, moving closer to the couch and looking her critically in the eye. "Have you been outside?"

Iris pulled back her wet hair into a ponytail. "Maybe."

"Iris." Eddie gripped the back of the couch. "You haven't been walking the beach again, have you?" Iris said nothing, and he puffed out an angry breath. "We've talked about this. You shouldn't be out there alone. Besides, there's nothing to find."

"There could be," Iris said. "A body, or..."

"Bodies, exactly," said Eddie. "Iris, I don't want you stumbling upon a corpse. I don't think that's what you want either."

As frustrated as she was at Eddie, Iris was even more frustrated at the tears that sprang to her eyes. "I need to. What if it's the Flash, or-"

"Or Barry?" Eddie completed her statement for her, stepping back jerkily from the couch. "Is that what you want? You want to find Barry's body?"

Iris opened her mouth, but no sound came out, so she let it close again. The hot tears slid down her face, and she turned back to the TV, drew her knees up to her chin. Behind her, Eddie let out another breath, softer this time.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just...it's been a long day."

"Yeah," Iris said. "I know."

Slowly, Eddie circled around the couch and sat on the edge, looking at her as if across a great divide. She didn't meet his gaze but could feel his eyes on her.

"We'll find your dad," he said. "And we'll find Barry. I promise. We'll find them. They'll be okay."

All of the normal arguments seemed useless- _how do you know? what if they're not?_ -so Iris picked at a loose string in the couch instead. Eddie moved closer.

His hand, tentative, was warm on her leg.

"I'm really sorry," he said. "The truth is...I'm scared too. But we have to believe that things will turn out right. We _have_ to. I believe that we'll find your dad. And Barry. I believe that we will be okay. I understand if you don't...but I hope that you'll try."

Finally Iris looked him in the eye, found him desperately searching her soul. She did want to believe. She wanted to believe that all of them would be okay. She wanted to believe in her and Eddie. But just as soon as they'd made eye contact, she looked away.

When she looked Eddie in the eye, all she saw was that day in the park, with Barry's lips on hers, with Barry's hand on her cheek, how the world spun in giddy circles around her. Barry had been so warm.

The memory, the last happy memory that she had, plunged her further into guilt.

"Maybe I will go to bed," she said, pulling away from Eddie's touch, feeling it burn her through her jeans. "I'm pretty beat."

Eddie stood with her, like a gentleman might. "Yeah, I think I'll hit the sack too."

"Goodnight, then" Iris said definitively, and she walked toward the stairs without looking back. She could feel Eddie's hurt behind her, his confusion-her words like a closing door.

* * *

There was really nowhere else to go, if Caitlin was being honest with herself; she'd walked as many streets as she was able to, stopping only once at a coffee shop with an unfamiliar name to warm up. She tried hard to convince herself that it wasn't self-punishment, wandering these streets, but another part recognized that her path was leading her gradually back to STAR.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text from Iris. _Stay safe_. She clicked off the screen and shoved the phone back in her coat pocket, burying her hands deep.

Although she knew Iris had been obsessively traveling up and down the beach for the past day and a half, looking for any sign of Barry or Weather Wizard, she hadn't yet had the guts to go herself. Now, unsure of what else to do, she cut down a side street that headed out to the water.

"Hey," shouted a woman from the window of an apartment building. "Careful out there."

Caitlin nodded vaguely and continued.

She was forced to step over some rubble on her way to the park, and hardly even occurred to her that what she was stepping over was not a product of intentionality, but of destruction, of failure. That this had once been a building, and people once lived or worked there. Her core was numb to this kind of information now, although she felt the facts click into her memory for further reflection.

Ahead of her, the beach stretched out for miles. She'd been out here plenty of times for early morning runs, but now all of those tracks were gone. Uprooted trees, torn-off branches, human trash littered the area. Sand from the beach, once confined to the strip along the water line, was now flung in abstract patterns across the park. Brown and gray smudged the once-serene area, and the beach itself looked more like an ugly scar than anything else.

Caitlin shrugged her coat up higher. The beach-that was where Barry had run, where he had cut his way through the sand, back and forth. She'd tracked his progress on the computer until his signal had blinked out, until the wave hit. It was odd seeing it now in person, the last marathon stretch in the liminal space between peace and destruction. When she looked out like this, from her vantage point on the rubble, she could picture all of it. The wave. The desperate attempts to stop it. The people, running for their lives, tearing across the landscape before the landscape tore itself apart.

Waste. All of it waste.

She pictured Mardon, Weather Wizard, standing above it all, watching the wave wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting city. Watching invisible people die.

The numbness in Caitlin's chest melted. In its place was fire, heat, anger.

Without a second thought, she turned on her heel, kicked out at a piece of rubble, started back in the direction of STAR. It was late, but she didn't care. She walked, her mind sparking from the blaze in her breast. She knew what she had to do.

She had to find Weather Wizard. And she had to take him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please please leave your thoughts below! It seriously brightens my day and lets me know that I'm not writing into a void. See you Sunday!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Sorry for the delay in updating-I had a frankly chaotic and emotional weekend, which made it impossible to do most anything productive. Things have mostly settled down, so here we are.
> 
> Without further ado...let's jump into some action.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ghost stories had never been Caitlin's forte, though Ronnie had often tried to convince her that they were the best form of entertainment. He would lie next to her in bed in the dark in the more comfortable months of their relationship and whisper the opening lines of a ghost story, just to freak her out, and she would grab the nearest pillow and shove it in his face.

The chill of ghosts haunted the STAR Labs cortex, and as she sat there alone at the computer bank, she desperately wished she had a pillow big enough to smother them.

The only light she had turned on was the one in the cortex itself-no need to draw attention to the fact that there was someone in the building. Besides, it gave her some kind of comfort, being in a bubble of light. Not having to face what she knew lay in the shadows. _Who_ she knew lay in the shadows.

The logic was, if she didn't think about who was in the basement of the building, she wouldn't ever have to deal with him.

On one screen, she pulled up a map of the city. On the other screen, she found the files of Cisco's schematics for most of his tech. Some of the projects were half-baked ideas, systems and functions that had been abandoned partway through development. Some, though, were fully formed, many even labeled with their corresponding storage unit in the bowels of the building.

She browsed for a bit, scanning through sometimes unusually-named files: it turned out Cisco had a knack not only for naming supervillains. Caitlin couldn't help but smile as she browsed through the knickknacks, imagining Cisco sitting there with a pencil in his mouth and ideas at the tips of his fingers.

Finally she found it: the Weather Wizard Wand, as it was labeled in the folder. Multiple files indicated multiple prototypes. While the police had confiscated the final, functioning wand, she hoped Cisco had kept some of the earlier models—if she was as clever as Cisco had always made her out to be, she should be able to use his plans to reconfigure an early design into something more functional. So she hoped, anyway.

She bookmarked the folder and wrote down the index number of where Cisco had stored his works in progress, folding the tiny paper in the palm of her hand. On the other computer, she set up the weather tracking program—by mapping out changes in electric charge and pressure in the atmosphere, she might have a shot at pinpointing Mardon's location. It was better than nothing.

With that, she rose and strode to the elevator, firm in her plan. A few steps from the doors, however, she paused. In her walk to the storage area, she would invariably have to pass the room with the tachyon prototype. The room where—

She would not look, she decided. She would turn her head. Denial, she reasoned, was the only way to keep moving forward.

With the first step of her plan clutched tightly in her palm, Caitlin Snow stepped into the elevator and took a breath.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Iris opened her eyes. Though she had fallen asleep with little difficulty, she woke with the sense of something forgotten, something unsettling. She reached for the phone charging beside her bed and unlocked it.

The last text message conversation glared at her from the screen: _text when you're back. stay safe._

Caitlin had never responded.

* * *

As much as she liked to consider herself a woman of strong convictions, Caitlin felt serious doubts as she drew closer to the warehouse. She didn't understand how Barry, even with his super speed, could just go running into danger without second thoughts—or maybe he did have second thoughts, and she simply wasn't privy to them.

Her plan with the weather program had worked, and through some careful analysis she had pinpointed this warehouse as the most likely location for Mark Mardon's current hideout. As she approached, gripping her prototype Weather Wizard Wand in one hand, she couldn't help but appreciate the appropriateness of the weather: the closer she got to the stone building, the more thickly the rain fell. The stuff of great horror movies, Cisco would say.

Lightning cracked overhead, and Caitlin scrambled forward to the warehouse wall. The main bay doors were open, perhaps for discreetness or perhaps just because Mardon wasn't concerned about being caught. Caitlin slunk inch by inch toward the gaping hole into the building, pausing at the edge.

Cisco had once taught her a trick of using her phone camera as a way to peer around corners, but she didn't want to waste the time. Besides, from what she could tell, the inside of the warehouse was dark. She hardly thought about it as she ducked sideways into the space.

It was a huge building, with rows and rows of boxes piled almost to the ceiling. Many of the boxes were dusty, and Caitlin wondered why the place had gone out of use. Or at least, out of use long enough for Mardon to establish it as his hideout.

There was no telling which aisle he might be in, or where Joe was being kept, so Caitlin crept quietly to one end of the room to begin her search more methodically. Her booted feet squeaked ever so slightly on the floor-and she realized after a few steps that she was leaving wet footprints behind her. No matter. She would be facing Mardon one way or another anyway. What did she care about leaving a trace?

More thunder shook the concrete under her feet as she passed aisle after aisle. _Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen_... She lost track soon after, despite the counting acting as a kind of focusing device for her. When she stopped counting, she felt the fear building back up in her stomach. With every step, anticipation took away more and more of her breath.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe her calculations, her speculations, had been off. Maybe Mardon and Joe weren't here at all. Maybe-

She rounded passed another stack of boxes and froze. Standing there, halfway down the length of the warehouse, was a lanky figure dressed in a long dark coat. His back was to her as he fiddled with something she couldn't see, but she knew it was him immediately.

"Don't worry, Detective," she caught the light sounds of his voice down the aisle. "I think it's about time to go for another ride. Are you ready? I stopped the Flash, but I think it's still fair that I stop your daughter's heart as well."

Caitlin clutched the wand more tightly, thumbing the release button, ready to switch it on at a moment's notice. She could see Joe now, too, even further down the aisle, drooping in a straight-backed chair. Still alive. Thank God.

Then, just like that, her boot squeaked again on the concrete. Mardon turned.

"You're awful brave, coming out in this storm," he hissed. He took a few steps forward. "Are you lost?"

The sneer in his voice was obvious. "I'm here to stop you," Caitlin said, but it didn't sound like how Barry used to say it. It had none of the confidence, none of the grandiosity, none of the dramatics that she'd heard Barry perfect over the months that he'd been working as the Flash. In comparison, her statement was weak. It was pretending. Play-acting.

Mardon laughed. "Right. You're one of the Flash's lackeys, aren't you? Come to avenge him? Is that it? Because, trust me, I have all of the avenging squared away right here."

As he lifted his arms, Caitlin knew what was coming, but her finger froze on the button of the wand. Paralyzed, she stood there watching, as if curious about the mechanics of Mardon's actions. The swirling of ice around his fingertips. The gathering coldness in the air.

Before she could process, before she could un-stick herself from the fear that kept her there, Mardon hurled the ball of ice forward. Barry had told her of the damage done by one of those balls of ice when they struck, and she had just the presence of mind to jump to the side as it approached. Still, the huge ice chunk caught her in the shoulder, and she was jerked backward by the force of it. The ice shattered across her collarbone, and she fell to the ground with a cry of pain. The distance had certainly been to her advantage, given that the ice ball hadn't done as much damage as it potentially could have, but Mardon was walking closer steadily.

Caitlin scrambled for the wand, which had fallen a foot away from her. The arm that had been hit screamed with pain, so she kept it tucked close as she gripped the metal of Cisco's device.

"You think one of your little toys can stop me?" Mardon yelled. With shaking fingers, Caitlin found the button on the wand and pressed it, brandishing the device upward as Mardon summoned a new force of nature. The energy siphoned through the wand and Mardon paused, feeling the drain on his powers. More confident now, Caitlin got to a standing position. Her grip on the wand was still unsteady, a huge gust of wind swirling about her. Mardon pushed his powers further and the wind increased, the wand itself now vibrating. With one more violent jolt, it warmed in her hand and then burst in a spray of sparks. Caitlin cried out as it burned her palm, casting the now-useless twist of metal to the ground.

"Nice try," Mardon said. "Thinking you could steal my powers? Thinking you're somehow above me? A god?""

He gathered the wind in his hands and let it explode.

Caitlin felt her feet leave the ground, and she was flying, spinning in the air. The world was a blur of gray and blue before it burst in a collision of stars. Dazed, she blinked-she was on the ground, with the cool cement floor pressed up against her cheek. The stack of boxes she had struck now tumbled around her, spraying her with the scent of dust and cardboard. She picked herself up from the floor and vaguely registered Joe's screams of "Caitlin!" before turning to see Mardon's approach. The boxes still fell, shifted, buffeted by the gathering wind. Warm blood ran down the side of Caitlin's face. The force of the wind gust had tossed her to the bay doors of the warehouse where she had entered, and the cold rain from outside dampened the back of her jacket. Mardon smiled.

And Caitlin ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a comment with your thoughts on the way out, and see you soon!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more days until The Flash! And an extra-long chapter in preemptive celebration.
> 
> Enjoy!

A new day, a new walk. Before the accident, Iris had never gone to the beach much. It must have been nice when it was still intact.

She'd set off almost as soon as the sun was up, anxious about Caitlin and anxious about Eddie and anxious about everything nowadays. Luckily, her panicked text to Caitlin had gone answered, albeit shortly: _fine, staying at star_.

At least one of her anxieties was quelled.

And, just her luck, a new one popped up almost immediately.

Halfway down the beach, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. The screen read _Linda Park_.

"Linda," she said, putting the phone to her ear. "Hi."

"Hey, Iris," came Linda's voice. "Are you doing okay? I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Yeah, yeah," Iris said, but she caught herself in the lie as soon as it came out of her mouth. "Well, no," she backtracked. "Things have been crazy. You know. With the wave, and…everything."

"I figured," Linda said softly. Had she heard about Barry? Or was she as much in the dark as anyone else? "We're missing you at work. I figured you needed some time, but Larkin is kind of pushing for you to come back."

"Oh," Iris said. In truth, she'd gotten the voicemails from work, the hurried trying-to-be-compassionate-but-actually-very-impatient messages. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me," Linda said. "If it were my decision, I'd give everyone the week off. Even though that would be impractical...given that we are a news station." She cleared her throat. "Listen, they want you to write something. You don't even have to come into work to do it. Just email it. Whatever."

Iris' throat tightened. "What do they want me to write about?"

"You're not gonna like it," Linda said. "I know you don't like to be considered the 'Flash girl,' but..."

"They want me to write about the Flash."

"You always have the inside scoop," Linda said. "They want to find out what happened to him. Where he is. Larkin thought you would be a good candidate for a little piece about him. Maybe you, out of any of us, could dig something up."

"Right."

"If not," Linda continued slowly, "they want some kind of memoriam."

Iris paused. "What, like an obituary for a superhero?"

"Some retrospective piece looking back on everything he's done for the city. I know it's not the ideal article, but..."

"We don't even know that he's dead," Iris said. "We don't know _anything_."

"I know, I know," said Linda. "Don't shoot the messenger. Just wanted to give you a heads up." A pause. "Maybe writing something will be good for you. Therapeutic."

Somehow Iris doubted that, but she took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair. "Maybe. Sorry for snapping at you, Linda. I'll think about the article. Thanks for calling."

"Don't worry about it. Take care of yourself, okay? Do what you need to do."

"Great." For a moment, Iris wanted to stay on the line, to confess to Linda everything that was going on-had Linda known about Barry's identity as well? Did it even matter anymore? Then, as she'd learned to do automatically, she hung up the phone.

Stuffing the phone back in her pocket, she continued along the beach. While there were a few footprints here and there from search and rescue teams, she figured that most of the imprints in the sand had been made by her the past few days. At least she was getting her exercise, she thought hotly, from wandering up and down the long expanse.

The water whispered to her right as she walked, and she thought back to what Eddie had said the night before. _What are you looking for? A body?_ With each step, she considered this more. If she saw a human form lying there, what would she do? If it was wearing a maroon, leather suit, what would she do?

At the very least, she would have the evidence to write Larkin's damn article.

These thoughts were too much for her, and, besides, she didn't want to think of anything having to do with Eddie. When she did, and when she consistently ignored his texts, she felt the wave of guilt rising up inside of her again.

Better to keep walking the beach, expecting to find nothing and hoping to find everything. Or the other way around—she was undecided.

Around noon, she stopped to take a break. There was an unlimited selection of driftwood on which to sit now, and she chose a thick trunk which looked as though it had been ripped out near the park. Today she'd actually remembered to bring lunch, and despite not being hungry, she forced herself to unzip her purse and pull out the sad-looking sandwich. Whole-wheat bread, with all of the seeds. She'd hated it as a kid, but it was all she could find at her dad's house. He'd never gone for cheap, processed Wonder Bread like she'd always hoped for. When she was younger she would spend ten minutes picking out all of the seeds from the bread-which she did again now, mindlessly.

She'd just finished piling up the seeds and was about to take her first bite when something on the edge of the water caught her eye. She blinked, thinking it to be a trick of the weather, a trick of the rain. But, no, something was there, five feet above the ground, shimmering. If Iris hadn't known better, she might have dismissed it as an optical illusion. But she knew better now. She'd seen her best friend move faster than her mind could process. She'd seen a tidal wave as tall as a skyscraper emerge from nowhere. She'd seen impossible things, and she saw this anomaly now.

Slowly she set down her sandwich and moved toward the glimmering patch of nothingness. From a distance, it almost looked as though the air itself had substance, as if it was something that could be caught and suspended. It didn't shine, exactly, but reflected-reflected in upon itself, reflected the afterimage of the last wave. As Iris got closer to it, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, as if by static shock. One step closer, and she saw something else glittering in the patch of air: a few raindrops, suspended, floating.

Had she missed this on all of her walks? The suspended space was certainly small enough that she might not have noticed it in passing, and, besides, it wasn't the kind of thing a person would be actively looking for. Even from a few feet away, she couldn't name it, couldn't even properly describe it, but from the way it sent a thrill of discovery through her, she knew it had to be important.

She abandoned her sandwich on the fallen tree. Her feet were already carrying her to STAR.

* * *

Caitlin winced as she shrugged up the sleeve of her sweater. She'd done the best she could to examine her own arm, but it was a lot harder diagnosing injuries when it was yourself who was injured. From what she could tell, no major damage had been done by the ice projectile--other than a fist-sized bruise along her collarbone--and even the slight injury would heal relatively quickly. Still, it was an inconvenience while she was trying to work. While nobody liked physical pain, she found it particularly annoying; it distracted her, kept her from the things she needed to do.

She was used to patching up Barry, which was also a distraction, but usually a more temporary one.

Temporary--more pain twinged in her chest at that word.

She clicked through a few more files on the computer and dragged them to the folder she'd begun setting up. A way of organizing. Cisco had been fine with keeping things in order, but Caitlin needed it all in one place. One file. One reference point. Maybe if it was all in the same place it would create enough force to bring Mardon down. Satellite reports. Tracking programs. Schematics for other tech that Caitlin would have to spend hours sifting through. Some of it had to be useful. She was convinced.

Just as she was wincing again at another movement, recoiling in her chair at the pain, she heard footsteps in the hall. Instantly she froze, her heartbeat accelerating in opposition. Then she leapt from her chair, grabbed at the nearest blunt object-a keyboard-and stood at the ready.

When Iris came around the corner, Caitlin practically melted in relief. The keyboard sank to her side, and she let it hang there lamely.

"Caitlin?" Iris said, evidently puzzled by the scene before her. "Were you...?"

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting visitors," Caitlin said, putting the keyboard back in its place sheepishly. "You never know who's going to walk through that door, really. We should probably get better security."

"All the more reason why you shouldn't be here alone," Iris said, frowning. "What are you doing here? And...oh my God, are you bleeding?"

Caitlin's hand went to her forehead, where her skin had been split open from colliding with the concrete floor of the warehouse. She'd put a makeshift bandage over it, but she hadn't really expected visitors. There was still dried blood caked down one side of her face, and he sported a nasty split lip to boot.

Raising her eyebrows, she said, "Not anymore."

"God, what happened to you?" Iris said, striding around the table to take one of the chairs beside Caitlin. She leaned forward with horror, taking in the state of Caitlin's face. "Is that a black eye?"

Oh, yeah. She'd forgotten about that one.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she turned away. "I'm fine. You know, when Barry comes back with a black eye, nobody even blinks at him."

"Because he's a superhero," Iris said. "And he has super-healing. Cait, what happened?"

"Nothing," Caitlin said. But as she swiveled her chair away from Iris, she paused. Again, she questioned the validity of keeping Iris in the dark. Iris was reasonably the only person she had left in this messed-up world, but still the knee-jerk reaction to lie was there. The nature of the business, all of them had tried to convince themselves.

"Actually, I have a bit of a headache. And obviously I'm not in the best shape. But I've got it under control, I promise."

"Not that I don't believe you, but..." The _but_ was punctuated by Iris' deepening frown. "This doesn't look like 'under control' to me. Were you attacked?"

"No," Caitlin said. "There's been no sign of Wells, or anyone else..."

"You went after Mardon," Iris said, the realization dawning on her as she looked at the computer screens. Caitlin guiltily closed out of one of her tabs, but it was too late. "You confronted him, didn't you?"

"I just wanted to help," Caitlin insisted. "I thought with Cisco's technology, with all of these programs we have at our disposal, I would be able to actually do something useful for a change."

"You do useful things all the time," Iris said, "but that doesn't mean you should go out and do them alone. He could've killed you!"

"Yes, I know." Caitlin rubbed at her forehead, winced at the spike of pain. "Believe me, I know that better than anyone."

"Obviously not," Iris snapped. "Why didn't you contact me? Let me know what you were doing?"

"Because I _needed_ to do this!" Caitlin said, standing. "I'm so sick of sitting around here doing nothing while Mardon and Wells are still out there, while Cisco and Barry are dead, while Joe is missing..."

"Getting yourself killed isn't going to bring Cisco and Barry back," Iris said quietly. "And neither is defeating Mardon and Wells. I don't think they would want you running off and putting yourself in danger. I know I don't."

Caitlin sniffed and took a few more steps, running shaky hands across her face as she tried to collect herself. Behind her, Iris waited, patient, for her to find her composure again. Finally Caitlin turned.

"I'm not sure what else to do," she admitted. "All I know how to do is keep moving forward. It's what I've been doing for a year now."

"And that's fine," Iris said. "But please let me help. You're not the only one grieving. You're not the only one feeling useless."

Her eyes shone, and Caitlin took that as a sign to return to her chair, to sit opposite the other woman once more. "Your dad was there. With Mardon. He was alive."

Iris' breath visibly hitched, and it was a moment before she could speak again. "You did find him."

Caitlin nodded. "I'm working on relocating them. I'm doubtful Mardon will stay in the same spot, now that he's been discovered. Even if my tech failed against him, I don't think he'll want to take the risk."

"So what are you doing now?" Iris asked. "You're going after him again, I assume."

Caitlin sighed and massaged her temples. "My idea was to develop a larger version of the Wizard Wand." At Iris' puzzled look, she explained, "A device that Cisco created in order to sap away Mardon's powers. They had one in the police station the first time Mardon attacked, but there's no way I would be able to get it from the police now."

"I can," Iris said suddenly. "They know me. I can ask them for it."

As much as she appreciated the enthusiasm, Caitlin shook her head. "Mardon has gotten more powerful, and he overloaded the wand that I took. I doubt the original would be able to contain him for long. But I think I can use some of Cisco's notes to adapt the technology, make it work faster and more efficiently. And on a larger scale. Building this new tech is just...time consuming. I'm not nearly as good with technology as Cisco."

"Let me help," Iris said. When Caitlin raised an eyebrow, she pushed further. "I grew up around Barry Allen, science nerd extraordinaire. I may not have the same science background, but I would help Barry build things when we were in school. His science projects." She paused, swallowing. "Besides, two sets of eyes are always better than one. I need this, too-I need to get my dad back."

Caitlin softened, looked at Iris' stress-worn face. It looked as though she'd come straight from the beach again, straight from more hours of wandering back and forth-a physical embodiment of what Caitlin's mind had been doing for the past three days. She knew what Barry would say: don't put Iris in danger. Don't get her involved in this.

But Barry wasn't there. And that was exactly the point. Iris' earnestness, her determination, emanated in waves from her sleep-deprived eyes, and at once the choice seemed not only obvious, but necessary.

"Okay, we'll need some supplies from Cisco's lab," she said. Iris' eyes lit up at the realization of Caitlin's words, and Caitlin's heart warmed. "And lots of coffee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill-I say thanks for reading and then implore you to leave a review. You guys are rad.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad the hiatus is over! Again, a shorter chapter, but lots of feelings (per usual).
> 
> Enjoy!

Caitlin held out her hand, and Iris responded instantly with the screwdriver.

"I just think it's silly," Iris said. "A lot of wasted potential."

"Tell me about it," Caitlin responded, squinting as she twisted the screw. "You've got to be consistent. One minute she's established as this strong female character, whatever that means, and then...poof! She's gone. Completely out of the story once she's served her purpose."

"Once she's motivated the male protagonist, you mean."

"Oh, of course."

Caitlin handed back the screwdriver, and Iris chuckled. "I'm glad someone else feels the same way. Eddie couldn't believe I was ranting to him about a children's movie about dragons."

"You should've spent more time with us," Caitlin said with a laugh. "We all went to see it together, and Cisco wouldn't shut up the entire car ride home about the implications of alpha and beta dragons in the real world." Her smile froze in place as a familiar ache throbbed through her. She remembered the car ride, the three of them—her, Barry, and Cisco—thinking of alternate titles for the movie _._ _How to Subdue a Very Large Dragon_. _Dragons! For Some Reason Everyone Loves Them Now._ And Caitlin's personal favorite: _Hiccup and the Neville Longbottom Effect._

It had been strange seeing Barry in a car for once, but she'd loved it. She'd loved the three of them cramped into one vehicle, their laughter too big for that one space. No crimefighting, just them.

The realizations were never really new at this point, but they twisted the knife in new ways. She was struck, again, by the pain of absence. The realization that she would never again sit in a cramped car with her two best friends, smelling of popcorn grease and salt.

"Hey," Iris said. "You okay?"

Caitlin swallowed. They'd posed the question to one another enough lately that it was harder to lie. "Just thinking about them. I feel like we didn't have enough time."

Iris reached across for Caitlin's hand, steadying it on the machine they were working on. "I understand."

After a few moments, Caitlin nodded and collected herself. She glanced up at the computer screen with the schematics and pulled out a new component from their pile of parts.

"This is almost done, I think," she said. "I don't see why it won't work."

"Can we test it out?"

"Maybe," Caitlin said, thinking back to all of the gadgets they'd thrown out in the field without testing. They'd always been lucky, she supposed, not to have had a major malfunction. Then again, it had been Cisco at the helm, Cisco's tech and his hands and his mind. She always trusted him to get the job done, and to do it right the first time. He'd been a genius. She and Iris, surrounding this incredibly unreliable piece of technology, were mere shadows. At least she recognized that. "I don't know if we'll have time, though."

The weightiness of the situation seemed to descend on both of them at once, and they lapsed into quiet. Iris glanced at the computer screen and adjusted a part on their machine accordingly, while Caitlin rubbed at a spot of grease on her thumb.

"Listen," Iris said softly. "This has all been strange to me. Finding out about Barry...I'm still not quite sure how to process it. I can't help thinking that I should've known, somehow. All of those times he would meet with me at Jitters, or when he would always rush in to save my dad...I should've realized it was him under that mask."

"No, we should have told you," Caitlin soothed. "It was unfair to keep that much from you. And for you to find out how you did."

"I wish..." Iris started, but she trailed off. "Never mind."

"No, what were you going to say?"

Iris bit her lip. "There's a part of me...that wishes he wasn't. I wish he'd woken up after that coma and gone back to his normal life. Is that selfish?"

"He loved being the Flash," Caitlin said, as gently as she could. "He loved everything about it."

"I know," Iris said, even though she didn't. There was so much she didn't know. "But thinking about it now, how many times he could've died...without me knowing. Would you have told me, after he was dead? Would you have told me then that he was the Flash?"

Caitlin stayed quiet.

"And, you know, if he wasn't the Flash...maybe he would be here right now." Iris' hands dropped.

"He was a hero," Caitlin said. She tried to steady herself, tried to make the words sound confident, but her heart wasn't there.

"I didn't want him to be a hero," Iris said, and Caitlin's heart stuttered in her chest at this reflection of her own words, so long ago. _We don't choose who gets to be a hero_ , she wanted to say, but her throat constricted with the truth in Iris' words. She'd had Iris' thoughts enough. If he hadn't become the Flash, Caitlin never would have known him. But at least he would be alive. Wasn't that a better reality than the one they had now?

"In that park," Iris said, more slowly now, "right before he ran off to stop the wave...right before he revealed himself as the Flash, Barry..." She swallowed. "Barry and I kissed."

The admission was a jolt to Caitlin's system. She tried to stay passive, stay calm, but the statement was so far afield of anything she'd been expecting she couldn't help but jerk her head up. "Oh?"

"It might have been the danger," Iris said, looking away from Caitlin's eyes. "Adrenaline makes us do crazy things. I just realized that we were likely going to die, and I needed him to know what he meant to me." A weak laugh. "I didn't know it would come to that. But it did, and it felt right, in the moment. Ever since he admitted that he loved me back at Christmas, it's been difficult."

"Do you...love him back?" Caitlin asked tentatively.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" Iris said with a half-chuckle, half-sob. "There were a lot of emotions all at once, and it seemed like the right thing to do in the moment. I don't know. When the world is ending around you, there's not much else to do but choose what makes you feel alive." She sniffed. "I can't look Eddie in the eye now."

"Eddie would understand," said Caitlin, in an attempt to provide some kind of advice. In truth, she was still reeling—a new piece to the only picture she had of Barry's last minutes.

"Would he, though?" Iris swiped at her face. "Sorry, that was probably too much information."

"Not at all," Caitlin said honestly. "Look, I've had my fair share of crushes on Barry Allen, but you...he has loved you for a long time. I can't imagine what you're feeling, Iris. It's okay to acknowledge that it's complicated. But I also don't think you need to avoid Eddie. He cares about you, too."

"Yeah," Iris said, and through her glassy eyes it was hard to tell if she was convinced or not. However, there was no time to continue the conversation further. On the left computer monitor, where a map of Central City was spread out in detail, a single point pulsed and beeped.

"Is that—"

"Mardon," Caitlin said, swiveling toward the screen and reaching across Iris for the computer mouse. "The program picked up on a possible location. A barn, near Bannon Park."

Caitlin and Iris locked eyes, and the weight of their last conversation lay heavily behind the conclusion they had both reached.

"Let's get him," Iris said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you feel so inclined (or want to make my day). See you Sunday!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for some action--let's get down to it.
> 
> (I'm not sure why I always feel compelled to write opening statements--old habits.)
> 
> Enjoy!

"Fitting, isn't it, for him to choose a barn?" Caitlin said.

"Why's that?" Iris fiddled with her sleeve, rolling it up, rolling it down.

"Well, you know, his brother chose a barn as his hideout back when Barry first became the Flash," Caitlin said.

"So it was a metahuman attack," Iris said. "Everyone was trying to convince me it was just a freak accident."

"Freak accidents." Caitlin barked out a laugh. "After this, I'll have to fill you in on some great 'accidents' involving our metahuman friends."

Caitlin stepped on the brakes and turned off the headlights of the car, beginning a quiet creep toward the barn. Her windshield wipers swung at full speed, huge globs of rain obscuring everything in their line of sight. With the headlights off, Iris could hardly see the road three feet in front of them, let alone the barn at the end of it. Yet Caitlin kept driving, her knuckles white on the wheel.

"So what do we do once we nab him?" Iris asked. "Do you send him to Iron Heights? Call the police?"

"Actually..." If Iris wasn't mistaken, there was a touch of guilt in Caitlin's voice. "We have our own prison in the pipeline of STAR. With cells specially equipped for people with abilities. Iron Heights doesn't have the appropriate equipment to handle metahumans. Not yet."

"Oh." Iris squinted at the road as they crossed over a particularly jolting bump. "So Barry knocks them out, speeds back with them, and you call it a day?"

"Pretty much," Caitlin said. "I guess in this case we'll just have to drive Mardon back to STAR. I don't fancy carrying him the whole way, do you?"

In spite of the circumstances, Iris couldn't help but smile. "I don't go to the gym much."

Her smile faded as Caitlin pulled to a stop outside of the barn. She pictured her dad in there, and she was met with a particularly nauseating image of him bloodied, maybe even dead. _Don't think about that_ , she told herself. _You can't think about that_.

"Ready?"

Iris pulled herself out of her disturbing thoughts and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"Okay, you grab the machine, and I'll—"

She never got to finish her thought. A bolt of lightning, glaring blue, struck the ground a foot away from the hood of their car, and a moment later another glanced past Iris' window. She screamed, and Caitlin's hand pushed her sideways.

"Get out!" she shouted. "Get out of the car, now!"

Without thinking, Iris did as instructed, unclicking her seatbelt and rolling out of the side door in one motion. She was soaked in seconds, and the torrential downpour made it impossible to see, impossible to move. She scrambled away from the car as another bolt of lightning struck close; the electricity in the air made her hair rise, her skin prickle.

She knew instantly why Caitlin had practically shoved her out of the car—one strike from that lightning would surely devastate the vehicle, not to mention the people inside.

And the machine that they had so carefully worked on.

Iris scrambled to her feet, Caitlin's name on her tongue, wanting to tell her that they needed to get the machine out of the van, that Mardon was targeting them and that he was going to destroy everything they'd constructed—

But then she realized that Caitlin was not out in the rain. She was still in the vehicle. And it was moving.

"Wait!" Iris yelled desperately, but another lightning bolt crackled down close to the driver's side door, and the van revved. Iris could only watch, blinking away water, as the van's tires spun in the mud and then lurched forward. The van accelerated fast, then collided with the barn door, bursting through to the inside. Wood exploded around it, and the air was momentarily filled with a cacophony of beams snapping and glass shattering. The lightning stopped, and Iris ran. She understood crystal-clear: under the roof of the barn, at least temporarily, the van was protected from the worst of the lightning.

Through shards of wood and dust-clogged air, Iris clambered through the rubble into the barn. The van, half-covered in broken beams, still grumbled with life, and Iris' attention went first to the driver's seat.

"Cait!"

Iris stumbled in her run to the door—the other woman's face was obscured as she lay forward against the steering wheel, one arm flung out and her hair covered with glass from the broken windshield.

Iris couldn't tell, yet, if the other woman was simply knocked out, or—no, she couldn't think of _or_ —

As soon as she'd reached the door, her attention was drawn to a yelp from the middle of the room, a cry of warning. She whipped her head toward it and felt herself melting at the sight of her father, tied to a chair in the middle of the floor.

"Dad!" she cried. Nothing else crossed her mind, none of the typical warnings that might have prevented her from being so rash. She simply ran, tearing through the rubble in her insistence to touch his face, feel his life—

"Baby, look out!" he shouted, but it was too late. Halfway to him, a gust of cold air caught her in the side, and she was lifted off of her feet and thrown sideways. She landed in a heap of wood, one of the jagged pieces catching her along the arm and cutting a gash through the sleeve of her jacket. Her dad was screaming in the background, and the gash was like fire in her arm, but she pushed herself to her feet. Adrenaline pumped through her, making the world sharper. Mark Mardon, his hair damp with rain or sweat, faced her with his hands balled up into fists.

"What, more little girls come to try and stop me?" he said. "Don't you know I'm more powerful than you?"

"Don't you know that you're a self-entitled prick?" Iris panted, and she leaped out of the way as another gust of icy air was thrust toward her. Another blast came a moment later and she tripped over a broken slat of wood in her haste, sprawling to the ground again. This time she was faster, grabbing a wide piece of wood and holding it up just as a solid ball of ice was flung her way. Her arms ached with the impact, but she kept the makeshift shield up as she got to her feet and sprinted to a piece of machinery where she could hide.

The piece of wood dropped to her side and she wheezed, pressing her back to the metal. She was now on the opposite end of the barn from where the van had crashed. There was no way she could make it back to the vehicle and draw out the machinery before Mardon caught her—she'd be dead before she made it halfway across the barn. She slid sideways and pressed a hand to her bloody sleeve, mind racing. As much as she couldn't make it across the barn to the van, she couldn't just leave Caitlin there at the mercy of Mardon. And she couldn't let her dad be used as leverage against her.

For a split second she thought about the luxury screaming, of letting out her frustration vocally, but she knew that wouldn't help. She also wished, momentarily, that Barry was there—but she pushed that thought away too. None of those wishes would help her get out of this. She was here, and now. In this filthy, broken barn, with nothing but her own two hands and an out-of-reach piece of questionable technology.

Though maybe she wasn't completely helpless; her eyes caught a large stack of wooden crates at the other end of the machinery she currently hid behind, and she edged toward it more quickly. Meanwhile, the wind around her picked up, blowing her hair back, and she had to push against it as she walked.

"I've got no time for your hide and seek," Mardon called. "Why don't you come out and get this over with? I promise I'll make it quick for your dear dad."

Finally Iris reached the crates. She took a moment to gather herself, pressed up against them, before peeking out around the edge. Just as she'd anticipated, Mardon had moved toward her in the time she'd been hiding, and he spotted her now. She caught his smile just before she retreated behind the stack.

"I see you," he said. "Game's over."

The wind buffeted her even behind her shelter. His boots stomped closer. Closer. Iris picked up a plow resting against the barn wall and, bracing herself, rammed the handle into one of the crates.

The effect was instantaneous. The crate that Iris had hit splintered, broke, and the stack that it supported swayed. She gave the stack one last push, and the crates came tumbling down, a wave of crashing and cracking. The swirling wind stopped, and Iris bolted in the other direction, back past the machinery she'd once hid behind, around the room toward open space. Her lungs burned, and the sound of crunching boxes followed her, but she didn't stop. She sprinted across the barn toward the car, heart leaping when she saw Caitlin wrestling with the driver side door.

"Are you okay?" Iris called, wanting to stop but too intent on opening the back door of the van.

"It was a pretty stupid plan, wasn't it?" Caitlin said, wincing as she finally managed to get the door open and slid out of the vehicle. A new cut had opened up above her eyebrow, but she didn't appear to have any major injuries. As soon as she was free of the ruined vehicle, she looked across the barn, to the dust of the falling crates. Mardon was somewhere beneath them, but Iris didn't trust him to stay down.

"Quick, help me get this out," Iris said, reaching inside of the new tech.

On the way over, Caitlin had told Iris a story of their first encounter with Captain Cold, when they'd rigged up an old STAR vacuum cleaner to look like a modified cold gun. This new tech reeked of the same shenanigans, just a mish-mash of old parts, barely held-together, but it was, in theory, actually functional. That was the hope, at least. A large metal box with some glowing lights and switches, it was nowhere near as elegant as Cisco's Wizard Wand—but then, it didn't need to be.

The two grasped it on either side and pulled it out of the van, letting it drop ungracefully to the floor of the barn.

"We need to bring it closer!" Caitlin said. "Closer to Mardon, into open space!"

Iris nodded her understanding, but in that instant something collided with the van just beside her head. She and Caitlin both ducked, shrieking: a huge chunk of ice, bigger than they'd seen before, was wedged into the dent it had made in the side of the van.

Iris whirled, seeing Mardon pick himself up from the piles of crates. "Damn," she said. "I thought that would've at least knocked him out."

"I need you to distract him." Caitlin grabbed Iris by the forearm, below where she'd been cut. "Iris. Can you do that?"

Iris nodded. There was no time to waste, and the air between them crackled not with lightning this time, but with desperation. Caitlin squeezed her arm, and then she was off, full-tilt running straight at Mardon.

If she and Caitlin were going to continue this superhero-ing business, they were going to have to start getting into shape. CrossFit, maybe.

Another ball of ice came hurling her direction, and she just managed to duck and weave around it. She caught sight of her dad, straining against the chair on the other end of the room, and remembered what he'd taught her when she was younger. _If someone's trying to hurt you, don't run in a straight line. Zig-zag. Don't become a predictable part of their trajectory_.

She imagined he had been talking about running away from projectiles, not toward them—but what was the difference, anyway?

She ducked away from another ball of ice and hoped fervently that it wasn't instead hitting Caitlin. Mardon regarded her with a dark look, all humor gone, but she didn't hesitate. The closer she got, the more determined she became. When he raised his arms and the wind picked up, she dropped to the floor and dug her hands and feet into the dirt. The blast of wind pushed her backward; her feet stayed planted. Dust and soil collected under her fingernails. The blast subsided, and she picked herself back up again, running once more.

"You don't give up, do you?" Mardon said darkly. He raised his arms and Iris leaped for the nearest object she could reach: a pipe that had fallen loose either from Caitlin's dramatic entrance or from the wind Mardon himself had generated. Before Mardon could send another blast of wind her way, she threw the pipe with everything she had in her. The distraction temporarily worked, as Mardon was forced to shield himself when the pipe made contact. Iris' heel skidded in the dirt, and she reached for another object to throw.

Her fingers had just closed around a wrench when she was hit square in the chest by a concentrated stream of icy wind. It propelled her backward, and momentum carried her until she crashed into one of the tractors parked in the barn. A blinding pain erupted in her ribs, and she gasped, trying to regain her breath. The chill spread through her chest, constricting her lungs, causing her breath to come out in desperate gasps.

When she'd recovered enough to look up from her position on the floor, she saw Caitlin desperately struggling with the machine in the middle of the floor. She was down on her knees, adjusting one of the knobs, but Mardon had now set his sights on her and was collecting more snow at his fingertips.

Without a thought, ignoring the ringing pain throughout her entire body, Iris heaved herself upward and tripped forward. Her legs felt more like elastic than flesh and bone, but the only thing on her mind was _run, Iris, run._

She caught the unsuspecting Mardon around the middle and they both toppled sideways into the dirt. Once on the ground, Iris knew she had the disadvantage; she attempted to pin him there with her knee, but the man launched her off of him in a second. She rolled in the dirt, and then he was on top of her. She kicked out and connected with his ribcage, but the blow appeared only to be glancing. With a growl, he lifted his hand and struck downward, his fist catching her in the cheek.

Dazed, she watched his hand rise again, this time curling around the air, particles forming in his palm: a ball of ice, the same he had used to kill the man at the morgue, the same he would use to kill her in front of her own father—

Then an intense whirring sound filled the barn, and Iris felt the air rush out of her. Every part of the world seemed drawn sideways, drawn as if by a magnet. Through her blurry vision, Iris saw the ball of ice disintegrate and pull sideways. Mardon's face contorted with surprise, then with determination. A new ice ball struggled to life in his palm; his face turned red with exertion; then that, too, was pulled away, and the world grew still.

Iris turned her head. Caitlin, her face shining with blood and sweat and triumph, crouched beside the machine they had built together. Iris could see shimmers of heat radiating from it, but it held. It had worked.

"You think I need my powers to take you down?" Mardon said after a beat. Iris was thrust back into reality as his fist raised above her again. She flinched away, struggling under his knee.

Then, in a blink, Caitlin was in her line of sight, Mardon lying on the ground beside her, out cold. It took Iris a moment to process what she was seeing, but she accepted Caitlin's hand and struggled to a standing position.

"Nice one," she said, stunned.

"Thanks." Caitlin tossed aside the pipe she'd used to knock out Mardon. It was hard to believe they weren't dreaming; Iris tried to fixate on the unconscious meta, the tangible reward of their efforts, but either her injuries or the surreality of it all made it hard to believe.

"All of that fancy technology and he goes out with a pipe to the head," Iris said.

"Well." Caitlin shrugged. "I guess you owe me a drink."

"Girl, did you see me save you out there? I think we're even," Iris said with a smirk, punching Caitlin lightly in the arm.

They both winced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Believe it or not, we're not even halfway through yet.
> 
> Closing statements--also old habits. Please take a moment to leave your thoughts. See you soon!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night's episode had no chill-I like to think the same concept applies here.
> 
> Enjoy!

Iris shoved another forkful of pasta into her mouth and changed the channel on the TV. Now that she was eating, it felt as if it had been a millennium since she had. Her battered body craved it; the adrenaline crash came with a serious case of hunger pangs.

"It is believed that all residents living in the south side of the city have been safely evacuated. We're getting reports from..."

Iris flipped the channel and sat back on the couch with a frown. She would've thought at least one news channel would be covering the rescue of her father. Or, at the very least, the capture of Mark Mardon. Maybe people were still too confused by the prospect of a man controlling weather patterns to take the arrest seriously.

Or maybe they needed a serious reporter like Iris West to tackle such a big story. She smiled to herself and took another bite of her dinner.

A few minutes into some trashy reality TV show she'd settled on, the door of the house opened. She looked back, expecting Caitlin, but to her surprise, it was Eddie who stepped over the threshold.

"Hi." He shut the door behind him gently and put his hands in his pockets. Judging by the state of his coat, it had stopped raining completely. On the way back to normal, then. Or, at least, as normal as the city could get. "Mind if I come in?"

"Looks like you're already in," Iris said, and she flinched immediately at the slight bite in her words. "I was hoping to see you, actually."

"Funny enough, me too," Eddie said with a little wave of his hands. An attempt at a joke. "What a coincidence."

Iris set her pasta back down on the table and drew up her sweatpant-clad legs to her chest. Eddie took this as an invitation to come in and sat at the other end of the couch. The scene was all too familiar, and Iris swallowed past a lump of pasta that had lodged itself in her throat. Eddie looked at her, the lines in his face growing deep as he took in the state of her face. Mardon's punch had given her a nice bruise on her cheekbone, and the oversized hoodie that she'd borrowed from Barry's closet concealed a similar bruise on her chest and a bandage around her arm.

"Do you need any ice or anything for that?" he asked, motioning at her face. Though he was clearly concerned, he at least had the decency not to ask her if she was alright.

She shook her head. "I just got back from the hospital, actually." At his alarmed look, she backtracked. "For my dad. I was with him until he woke up. He insisted I come back to get some rest. The nurses checked me out, though."

"Of course," Eddie said. "I heard about the whole thing—you and Caitlin taking on Mardon alone—I just thought you might need some space."

Iris rubbed at the back of her neck nervously. "Yeah, it's been...crazy." She paused, afraid to look him in the eye again. When she finally did, he was staring back, searching her, looking for answers. "The truth is, I...I felt the space. And I wanted you to fill it."

Eddie's mouth hung open for a split second, lost for words. Then: "I'm sorry, Iris. I thought you didn't want to see me—it's just, the other nigh—"

"Barry kissed me," she said suddenly. " _We_ kissed. Right before the tidal wave hit." Eddie again opened his mouth to speak, but Iris didn't want him to say anything. Not yet. "Then we got...separated. Everyone was scared for their lives and I think that's what compelled him—compelled us—and then the crowd was so desperate, and I think...I think he just got swallowed." She gasped. She'd told herself she wouldn't cry. Not in front of Eddie. Not because of this. But tears flowed unbidden down her cheeks, and she felt pain, fresh hurt and old scars, but didn't know which she was crying about.

In a second, Eddie was across the couch, his hand on her shoulder, drawing her close. She sank her head into his chest and listened to his heartbeat while her crying slowed.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he asked softly once she had regained some control. His hand carded through her hair.

"Why do you think?" Iris said, chuckling wetly. She could hear the rumble of laughter, too in Eddie's chest.

"Dumb question," he said. "But you know I understand. Barry has been there your whole life—I've always wondered—"

"Hey," Iris said, and she lifted herself quickly from his chest to look him in the eyes again. "I chose you, remember? Listen, what happened that day, what we did...it doesn't matter." It did matter, if she wanted to confront it, but not in the way that Eddie was thinking. With the crash of adrenaline, the slight bit of closure from the fight with Mardon, she could see more clearly. She felt her heart pumping, and she reached out to brush Eddie's face. "I love you, Eddie Thawne. I love you more than anything."

With that, she leaned forward and kissed him. A kiss that she hope spoke to her truth, a kiss to make him understand everything she was feeling. She wanted him to know. She needed him to know. As he kissed her back, his hand sliding around the back of her head to draw her closer, the pain of Barry and of everything that had happened sunk into temporary shadow, a shadow that shielded her from the worst of it. It was the warmest she'd felt in days.

"And you, Iris West," said Eddie between kisses. "I love you more than anything."

Under his touch, she melted, and off of her too melted the anxieties and the useless feelings that had overtaken her the past few days. Eddie's teeth grazed her lower lip and she leaned back at his guiding touch. When her back met the cushions, she winced. Eddie pulled away instantly.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"Not you," she explained. "Just my chest."

With a look at her for confirmation, Eddie gently tugged down the zipper of her hoodie just low enough to expose the huge gray bruise made by the ice blast. The doctors had looked at it and ruled out frostbite, but the impact point still hurt like hell and would keep her from wearing anything low-cut for a while.

She squirmed, worried about Eddie's reaction— _why would you go after a killer? it's not safe, Iris. see what happens when you get involved?_ —but, to her surprise, he looked back up at her with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Iris West," he said in a low voice. "Hero of Central City."

He placed a light kiss on the top of the bruise, and the feeling of warmth spread further through her. As he unzipped the hoodie further, his lips warm on skin that had been cold for too long, Iris closed her eyes allowed herself finally to thaw.

* * *

For having only one person in the lab, the trash was filling up awfully fast with bloody gauze squares. Caitlin tossed a new one into the bin and winced at the movement. Her shoulder had only gotten stiffer since her second fight with Mardon, and getting hit in the head twice in twenty-four hours was doing nothing for her headache.

At least she didn't need stitches. Those would have been hell to do to herself.

Iris had urged her to come with her to the hospital, to get checked out by a (dare she say it) real doctor, but Caitlin had refused. All she wanted was to lick her wounds in private, shut down all of her programs at STAR, and have a long night of Netflix and chocolate. She knew that Iris would be busy with her dad and Eddie, and it felt wrong to intrude on any of that. There would be plenty of time to catch up later.

For now, despite the blood and the bruises and the probable concussion (or perhaps because of those things), Caitlin felt better than she had in ages. She'd always wondered about the healing effects of adrenaline and danger, based on what she'd seen from Barry. And while she still didn't feel Barry-esque in hero quality, she did finally understand something of his addiction to the hero lifestyle. It felt _good._ The weariness felt _good_ , and she felt as if her tension, her sadness, siphoned away with the thrill of activity. Perhaps that was what she'd needed all along—to be doing something with her life. To convince herself that she was ready to move on.

She wasn't ready to move on, not just yet. But she was getting closer.

The Weather Machine—she hadn't come up with a clever name for it yet, but that too would come with time—had been deemed effective enough to hold Mardon in a prison other than the pipeline, and the ruined STAR van was parked safely in one of the back lots. There was nothing more to do. Caitlin cleared away the last of her medical supplies and shut off the computer monitors of the cortex, then grabbed her car keys.

The knowledge of what was downstairs caused her step to falter, but she brushed it off in favor of the new relief that had been promised her. She took a breath, felt the anxiety release, then flicked off the cortex light.

"Good evening, Doctor Snow."

The light in the hallway beyond flickered on, and Caitlin froze.

Harrison Wells, the Reverse Flash, smiled in the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeee!
> 
> It's kind of fitting that this chapter fell after last night's episode, actually. I told you things were far from over.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and please leave a comment with your thoughts below!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the hilarious responses to the last chapter. I'll admit, cliffhangers are my guilty pleasure (except not that guilty).
> 
> Enjoy chapter 9!
> 
> Disclaimer: Questionable Science is going to be making a reappearance, so please cut me some slack.

"Don't be alarmed," Wells said, taking a step forward into the cortex. Caitlin stumbled backward on instinct, back into the darkness of the room, making contact with the desk behind her. While she'd seen his empty wheelchair, seen the evidence of his mobility left in that basement room, the image of Wells actually _walking_ was enough to throw her into a panic. "It's not like this is the first time I've been around while you've been here. I've been watching you work the past few days. Impressive, that device you built with Ms. West to stop Mark Mardon."

"You're the Reverse Flash," Caitlin said breathlessly. "This whole time...it was you."

"Let's skip the dramatics, please," Wells said. "Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't piece it together earlier. You've always been a smart girl, Dr. Snow, which is why I haven't killed you these past three days."

Caitlin's heart flipped. "You killed Cisco."

"An unfortunate casualty," Wells said, continuing his leisurely walk forward. "I didn't anticipate that, either, but what's done is done." To Caitlin's horror, the slightest tug of a smile pulled up at Wells' lips. "I notice you haven't moved the body. You're a doctor—surely you know about the stages of decomposition."

Beneath the fear, hot anger bubbled out from her core. She met Wells in two quick strides, her fist flying toward his face. Before she could even blink, her wrist was in Wells' grip and she was pressed back against the edge of the table again.

"I'm fast, remember?" Wells said, his face inches from hers, his once-kind blue eyes alive with sick amusement. A cat toying with its prey. "Faster than you, faster than Cisco Ramon, and faster than Barry Allen."

"What do you want?" Caitlin choked. Wells' grip was like a vice on her wrist. She'd never known him to be physically strong.

"I want Barry Allen," Wells said. "And I want you to help me get him."

"Barry's dead," Caitlin said, and it took everything in her not to spit the words at him. "I don't know what you want with him, but he's gone. He was killed in that tidal wave. If you're so smart, maybe you would've figured that out by now."

"Barry Allen is very much alive," Wells said. "When he ran along that beach, he simply ran fast enough to create a time breach. What he's been wanting to do all along. Go back in time."

The news, paired with the concussion, sent Caitlin's head spinning. _Back in time?_ Sure, they'd been entertaining possibilities of time travel, theorizing about the probabilities of Barry traveling back to save his mother, but all of it still seemed impossible.

But Barry...alive. The thought steadied her, made her heart flutter.

"It's impossible to say how far he went back, but my guess is no more than a few hours. A few days, at the most," Wells continued. "He's created a split timeline, something of an alternate universe, but I need him back in this one."

"You can't do that," Caitlin said. "It's impossible—messing with time like that—"

"What do you think I've been doing the past three days while you've been blubbering to your friends and building your toys?" Wells said. "I've been developing my own device, and believe me, my work goes much _faster_."

"You can't just bring someone back from a different timeline," Caitlin said, but even she could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

Wells grinned. "Watch me."

* * *

The clouds had dissipated, but dusk had cleared away any of the Central City citizens that may have wanted to use the beach. Caitlin doubted there would've been anyone there, anyway, but part of her fervently hoped for support when they reached their destination. Witnesses.

Once she'd gotten it into her head that she couldn't possibly outrun Wells, he'd let go of her wrist and let her walk freely. However, she felt his eyes on her as they walked down the rubble she'd stood on just a day before. His long strides were almost leisurely, but still purposeful. Caitlin swallowed, feeling as though she were being led to the firing squad.

In her arms, she held the piece of equipment that Wells had manufactured—a heavy, thick metallic disc edged with grooves. Behind her, Wells carried two more components, but Caitlin was too panicked to figure out how they would work together. A few steps into the walk, she'd considered dropping her piece, deliberately breaking it, but the thought had been quickly dashed. What good would that do her? She wasn't yet clear on how useful she was to Wells, and there was no guaranteeing that he wouldn't simply kill her if she rebelled. And if he truly was able to get Barry back, Caitlin would need to be there as a line of defense. Barry couldn't come back to an empty world.

"Right up here, if you please."

Caitlin stumbled over a rock, but Wells caught her arm to steady her. She jerked away and stomped through the sand to the place he'd indicated, depositing her equipment at his feet.

"You see, now, why it was so hard to find," Wells said, jerking his chin upward. "Quite a tricky thing to spot if you're not looking for it. Fortunately, I _was_ looking."

For a moment, Caitlin didn't understand. Then she saw it, just above eye level, a suspension of particles, a shimmer in the air. He was right; if she wasn't looking for it, it was small enough to go unnoticed. But now that she did see it, she felt her skin prickle, felt the scientific curiosity inadvertently build.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The time breach," he said, setting his own equipment down in the sand. "The very spot where Barry Allen disappeared during his heroic jog."

Caitlin suddenly had the urge to reach out and touch it, to feel that space she had lost. _Barry was here_. However, just as she was giving into her impulse, she felt the telling wave of wind and energy behind her. She turned just in time to see Wells with his constructed device, all of the pieces put together in seconds to form a device that reminded Caitlin absurdly of a wireless router. Even though it was happening right before her eyes, her brain was still unable to register Wells' speed, the idea that he'd had it the entire time.

"Step back, please," Wells instructed, and Caitlin did so without a word. Wells moved the device into place just beneath the glimmer in the air and switched it on. For a moment, Caitlin considered picking up one of the rocks along the beach, hitting Wells over the head, attempting to overpower him.

Two things stopped her. One, she was uncertain that she could beat him with his unparalleled speed. He would see her coming a mile away.

Two, there was an overwhelming part of her that selfishly needed to see Barry alive again. No matter what Wells' purposes were.

She took a few more steps back as the device hummed to life, a single light on the top of the black disc growing in intensity. The two antennae that jutted out on either side began vibrating, crackling with electricity, entrapping the patch of sky in a cocoon of golden electricity. The patch pulsed, warped. Caitlin glanced back at the park. Nobody there to see. No witnesses to whatever was going to happen next.

She wished, stupidly, that Iris was there.

Everything went silent. Even the rush of the water was sucked out of existence, and Caitlin's own heartbeat silenced for a few precious seconds. Along the coastline, a wave crashed, then lifted into the sky and hung there, suspended.

Then the light pulsed brighter, and Barry Allen came tumbling out of thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I love cliffhangers!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Please, if you would be so kind to leave a review on your way out, I really appreciate it!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the wonderful response to the last chapter! It was so nice to hear from some of you who have been quietly following along for a while (which I totally do all the time). I was afraid of some of the stuff that's beginning to happen being a little too weird, but I'm happy that you've already taken some of it in stride.
> 
> Enjoy chapter 10!

The world erupted around Caitlin—sound returned, the water crashed back to earth, and Barry Allen collapsed into the sand of the beach with a groan. While he had disappeared in his red suit, he lay on the beach before them now in plain clothes, and Caitlin had to wonder how much time had passed for him back in the other timeline. Did time move at the same speed in both?

Her instinct was to run to him, but Wells reacted first. Before Barry could even pick himself up onto his elbows, the other man was there, delivering a swift kick to Barry's temple.

"Hey!" Caitlin shouted, dropping all pretenses and sprinting forward to the now-unconscious Barry. She sank to her knees and rolled him over, grasping his shoulder and feeling her heart pound at his solidity. He was there. This was real.

"Being pulled through time should keep him out for a while," Wells said, "but you can never be too safe. We don't need him running off just yet, do we?"

Caitlin's fingers brushed the new cut on Barry's temple, just above his eyebrow. It mirrored her own injury.

"Now then," Wells continued. "No time to waste."

And suddenly Barry was gone. Caitlin sat there, dumbfounded, her fingers now touching nothing but air. She stood, anxiety building in her throat. Wells had disappeared, too, having sped off with Barry. Alone on the beach, she covered her mouth and tried to push down the panic attack that was looming. Her other hand curled around nothing, reaching for the brief moment of relief she'd gotten from Barry's presence, from Barry's life.

Now he was gone again.

After a few seconds, her mind cleared just enough for her to realize that she still had her phone on her. Fingers trembling, she fumbled in her pocket for her phone and drew it out. She knew Iris' number by heart now.

And, just as soon as she'd dialed the first few digits, she, too, was whisked away.

* * *

"What a nice surprise," Iris said, winding an arm around Eddie's waist and giving him a peck on the cheek. "You know pancakes are my favorite."

"Mm." Eddie turned away from the stove and drew her closer, pressing his lips against hers. "What, have they taken my place?"

"Maybe," Iris teased. She drew away and opened the fridge. "Dad doesn't have any milk in here."

"Sorry, drank the last of it," Eddie said. "You're looking nice. What's the occasion?"

Iris pulled out the orange juice instead and glanced down at her outfit. It was nothing special, aside from the large necklace she'd donned to cover up the top of her bruise—but she supposed she'd gone unshowered and unkempt for so long that any change seemed like a large one.

"Nothing special," she said. "I'm off to visit my dad; I promised him I'd come back in the morning. Then I might stop by work. I'm surprised my boss hasn't fired me yet."

"Everyone deals with grief differently," Eddie said. "He's got to understand that."

"Yeah." Iris accepted the plate loaded with two pancakes but remained standing at the counter. "What are you up to today?"

"Back at the precinct," Eddie said. "Lots of paperwork to do. We need to figure out an effective long-term solution to our Mardon problem." He turned off the stove. Iris considered mentioning the metahuman prison that Caitlin had talked about, but bit her lip. It would be too complicated to explain. "Speaking of Mardon, did Caitlin come home last night?"

"If she did, she must've left early—she wasn't in the room when I walked past." Iris took another bite of her breakfast and pulled out her phone. There was one message from her dad, a response to her morning text, but nothing from Caitlin. She swallowed. "She must've gone back to her apartment. I'll give her a call on my way to the hospital and check up on her."

"I'm sure she's fine," Eddie said, brushing Iris' arm. "The city's a lot safer now, especially after capturing Mardon."

"I'm not worried." And at first she wasn't, but the nagging voice at the back of her mind reminded her that Eddie didn't know the full story. Wells was still out there. "Caitlin can take care of herself."

* * *

Caitlin's breath came back to her at once, and she realized that she was back in STAR, back in the cortex. Her feet touched the floor and Wells stepped away. He hadn't even broken out a sweat.

"Apologies for the unexpected transportation," Wells said, with the air of someone who had never felt the need to apologize for anything in his life. "I find cars tedious."

"Where's Barry?" Caitlin said, spinning around to face him. "What did you do with him?"

"He'll come around soon," Wells said. "Don't worry, I didn't hurt him. If you want it to stay that way, however, you'll do as I say. I need your assistance."

"Whatever it is, I don't want any part of it," Caitlin said. "If you're so smart, why don't you do it yourself?"

"Two sets of hands are better than one," Wells said, echoing Iris' comment to Caitlin in this very room just two days ago. "Your expertise in biology, and your familiarity with Barry Allen's physiology, would greatly benefit me." He picked up a pen, examined it. "I need to develop a serum to make the Flash faster."

He set the pen down. Caitlin gaped.

"He's your enemy," she said. "Why would you want..."

"He opened up a time breach, yes," Wells said. "But he is still not fast enough for my purposes. Time is running out now that he's set these things in motion." He paused. "If you don't assist me, I will not hesitate to rescind my offer not to hurt him."

"Let me see him." Caitlin set her mouth in a resolute line. "Where is he?"

Wells let out a breath that was not quite a laugh. "Where else?"

The statement took only a moment to process. Caitlin sprinted toward the door that would lead her downstairs. Motion-controlled lights flicked on as she ran, guiding her toward her destination, leading the way.

At last she was in the pipeline. It no longer scared her like it used to, but the squeal of the main doors sliding open still sent a spike of cold down her spine. The doors opened slowly, too slowly, and then she was there, running to the containment cell that stood at the end of the passage.

"Barry," she said, crouching down at the edge of the cell, pressing a hand against the glass. Inside, Barry lay on his back, unmoving—except for his chest, which thankfully still rose and fell normally. His face was passive, calm, in his oblivion, and Caitlin was thrust back inadvertently to those months of watching him lie in the STAR hospital bed.

"A genius piece of technology all of us came up with," Wells taunted, suddenly behind her. She hadn't even heard him speed into the room. "Able to withstand the most volatile of metahuman powers. Able to hold even a speedster."

"What's wrong with him?" Caitlin said. "Why hasn't he woken up?"

"Mr. Ramon was always the most adept at coming up with catchy names for things," Wells said, and Caitlin bristled. "The best way I can think to describe this particular phenomenon is a time coma, though I'm sure there's better. The effects of time travel wreak havoc on a body. I should know."

Caitin pulled her hand away from the glass, the corners of her eyes burning. "Why are you doing this? Why do you need him?"

"Because I need to go back to my own time," Wells said. When Caitlin didn't respond he continued. "Don't think that Barry here is the only one trapped in a time that isn't his own. My home is the future, and the Flash is my only chance to make it back."

"I don't understand," Caitlin said quietly.

Wells sighed dramatically. "My name is Eobard Thawne," he said slowly. "I was sent back here, back to my past, and I've been living every day so slowly, waiting for my opportunity to return to my time. Do you understand how painful that is, Ms. Snow? Do you understand what it's like to be stranded? Helpless?"

Caitlin's mouth went dry. She licked at her lips and stood. "You need Barry to run fast enough to open up another time breach. So you can get home. That's why you've been helping us all this time."

"Correct." Wells put his hands behind his back. "Believe me, there's nothing I wouldn't do to go home." He tilted his head downward, his eyes narrowing. Caitlin got a vision, suddenly, of what Cisco might have seen in the moments before his death. Harrison Wells, or Eobard Thawne, with eyes like cold steel. "Nothing."

"You don't need me," Caitlin dared to say. "I'm not the only intelligent one in this lab. You could make it yourself."

"Likely," Wells said nonchalantly. "But you will expedite the process. Besides, that isn't the only way you're useful to me. Even with the speed serum, Mr. Allen will undoubtedly need some... _incentive_ to help me." Caitlin froze, locking eyes with him, and he smiled.

"You need him alive." The realization dawned on her. She pushed at Wells further, testing him. "You were bluffing earlier. You can't use him as leverage against me, because you need him."

But her triumph was quelled in a heartbeat when Wells continued to grin. "You're correct," he said. "But he's not the only person on this earth that you care about."

Caitlin went numb.

Iris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please take a moment to leave a review on your way out; I really appreciate it! See you next week.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get weird. Thanks for sticking around and joining the pain train.
> 
> Enjoy!

Iris frowned as the voicemail beeped.

"Hey, Cait, it's me," she said. She ducked out of the way of a nurse, pressing herself against one of the hallway walls. "I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you're doing alright. You took some hard hits yesterday." She tried to sound casual, conversational, but if the past few days had taught her anything, it was that worrying was never an unreasonable thing. "Anyway, I'm visiting my dad. Call me back when you get this."

She paused, hung up. She was probably overreacting. The morning was young. Caitlin was likely still asleep.

Trying to push the worry out of her head, she pocketed her phone and stepped into her dad's room. He looked up as she entered, beaming.

"Hey, baby," he said, propping himself up on his pillows. "Good news—they should be releasing me later today. It'll be strict bed rest for a while, but at least I can be home with you."

She took a seat and tried to smile, but his brow crinkled.

"Uh oh. What is it now?"

"It's nothing." Her dad raised his eyebrows. "It's Caitlin. I just tried calling her, and she didn't pick up. I know I'm probably being stupid and overprotective…I just want to make sure she's okay."

"I don't think you're being stupid," her dad said. "With everything that's happened this week, I'd be surprised if you didn't worry. But I agree that you have to recognize her need for space. She lost two people the night of that wave. I think she still needs to process that."

"Yeah." Iris picked at a spot around her fingernail. "I can't imagine what she's going through."

"I don't know about that," her dad said softly. "Barry...you've decided to stop looking for him, I take it?"

Iris lifted her head. "Who—"

"Eddie," her dad said apologetically. "He told me that you've been walking up and down that beach for days looking for something you're not going to find. Frankly, I was surprised to see you here, not there."

"Of course I'm here," Iris said. "Of course I came to see you." She reached across to grab his hand, squeezed it gently. Then she dropped her head, nodded. "And I think it's time to stop looking. I think it's time to accept that Barry is..."

She fell silent, and so did her dad. She felt him trembling, and she didn't dare look up at his face.

It was always hard to see a parent as a real person, not as the one-dimensional figure so often constructed by a child's eyes, but occasionally Iris could break through that façade. In that moment, Iris was overwhelmed by her dad's pain, struck by the loss through his eyes. He'd been there, watching through binoculars, as the lives of his children were threatened. He'd watched, helpless, as his son was overtaken by a force that was stronger than any of them.

She thought of her walks up and down that beach, the hours of searching, the hours of sand-streaked hope that her dad would never get. Because she'd done the walking for the both of them, and there was nothing left for him to do.

She squeezed tighter.

And then she remembered.

"Wait," she said. "I did find something at the beach. Yesterday. Before Caitlin and I went after Mardon. I got so distracted with everything else going on, I totally forgot to tell her."

Her dad extracted his hand from hers. "What was it?"

"I don't know," Iris admitted. "Some kind of shimmery patch in the air. And water droplets, I think, just hanging there."

"So something supernatural, I take it?" her dad said.

Iris chewed on her fingernail. "Something not normal. At first I thought I was seeing things, but I think..." She looked up at her dad for confirmation. "I mean, I don't even know if it's still there."

Her dad nodded at her. "There's only one way to find out. Go."

"Are you sure?" Iris said. "I just got here. It can wait."

"If there's anything I've learned about these weird things in this city," he responded, "it's that they usually can't wait. I'm fine. Go."

Iris hesitated only a moment more before springing to her feet and planting a kiss on his forehead. "I'll be back soon. Keep me updated."

"Likewise," he said. She was halfway out the door when he called, "Be careful."

The warning would be stored for later use, when danger adopted a physical face. For now, Iris' heart pumped with the thrill of it.

* * *

"Pass me that, please."

Wells motioned without taking his eyes off of the microscope. Caitlin, grinding her teeth, picked up the vial he was asking for and passed it to him.

She had to hand it to the guy—as Wells in a wheelchair, he'd done a great job of pretending to enjoy actual conversation. While she wasn't looking for conversation now, the absolute smug silence of this Wells grated on her.

She hated it. She hated every part of it. Standing at one of the tables in the med bay, playing assistant to a man who knew he had total control over her. They both knew it, and it hung stagnant in the air between them. All she could do was hand over new components, write down new equations and compounds that might help them. Wells deferred to her very little, but whenever he did, his eyes pierced the weak defenses of her flesh into her mind. Truth, honest opinions, were all that she could give—she got the feeling that he would know immediately if she provided any false information.

And still, as she worked, there was a small part of her—extremely small—that doubted her new hate. Wells worked with all of the intensity and precision of a man bred from purpose. Stranded in time. Helpless.

"Dr. Snow. Epinephrine. Now."

And she was back to hating him.

She tried to breathe evenly at his tone, but inside she felt fury at his dismissiveness, his impartiality. Fury, now, for the impartiality that had killed one of her best friends.

She clenched her teeth and moved around the table to duck down to the drawer where she kept the adrenaline shots. Luckily she'd never needed to use them on anyone—Barry hadn't gotten himself in that much trouble yet—but given her line of work, she liked to have a stock of them anyway. Better to have them on hand, in case Barry did need one after a nasty mission.

As she crouched there, pulling open the drawer, the idea hit her.

As inconspicuously as she could, she glanced back at Wells. He was still engrossed in his microscope, his eye pressed to it as he shifted one of the glass slides. Caitlin turned back and reached into the drawer. Though the shots were near the front of the drawer, she made a show of rustling around, searching. Her hand closed around two of the plastic-wrapped shots; one she kept in her hand, and the other she slipped into her coat pocket.

Heart pounding, she closed the drawer and stood. The walk back to the table was measured, deliberate, and she tried to keep her face as passive as she could. When she handed the shot over to Wells, he accepted it without a word.

Her hands shook, but she took a breath to steady herself. The adrenaline shot, while not large, might have been a ton of bricks in her pocket.

She went back to work, hardly daring to move.

* * *

As she reached the beach, Iris checked her voicemail; maybe her phone had acted up, or maybe she'd somehow missed Caitlin's call. The voice declaring _no new messages_ seemed to mock her. She hung up.

The morning had melted into a creamy afternoon, the sky a periwinkle blue and brushed with white clouds. The nightmare of Mardon's storm could almost be dismissed as that: a nightmare. She doubted the residents of the city even considered the possibility of a metahuman attack. To them, the tidal wave and the ensuing storm were just a natural disaster. That's why the Flash had failed. Because there wasn't a person to fight.

Iris picked her way down to the beach, mentally mapping out her route from the day before. A few new footsteps marred the sand, so she couldn't rely on her own tracks, just her memory. She set off in the direction she believed she'd seen the anomaly, tapping her phone against her leg. Putting it back in her pocket was no longer an option. If she did, she might not hear it ring when Caitlin called.

After a few minutes of walking—and a lot of confused searching that would've certainly garnered her strange looks from passers-by—she finally found it. The patch of shimmering air was still there, pulsating slightly. Iris glanced around to make sure nobody was around, watching, then pulled up the camera on her phone and snapped a picture. Even on an iPhone, the photo wasn't clear enough to do it justice, but it would have to do for now.

Her pulse was quick with excitement now, so she dialed up Caitlin again. There was no telling how long the anomaly would last, and a picture wasn't nearly as good as seeing the real thing. The dial tone sounded and Iris held the phone up to her ear.

A few feet away from her, a generic jingle sounded from the sand.

Iris moved toward the sound slowly, dread creeping through her, as the dial tone on her end rang and rang, then clicked to voicemail. Iris hung up and crouched by the object half-buried in the sand, a plain black phone.

On the screen read: _4 missed calls: Iris West._

"Shit," Iris muttered. She picked up the phone, navigated to the home screen. A photo of Barry, Cisco, and Caitlin glared up at her. "No, no, no..."

The alarm collected within her, heightened. She stood and looked around her. She saw it now, the dozens of footprints around this spot, too much activity concentrated in one area. A large gash of sand just below the anomaly; a circular imprint; and, there, a streak of slightly-blackened sand, furrows of a high-speed departure.

"No...no..." She couldn't stop repeating the words to herself, and her grip on Caitlin's phone was too tight. She looked down at her own phone, considering, but who would she call? Eddie? What could he do, what could any of them, against the Man in Yellow? For she knew, now, exactly what had happened. Exactly who had taken Caitlin. She knew it in her gut.

She stood, paralyzed by indecision. And, just like that, the anomaly flashed, and the water along the coast began to rise. Just like that, her world filled with gold light, and a figure fell to the ground, emerging from nothingness.

Iris couldn't speak. She couldn't even breathe.

Panting on the ground in front of her, pale and trembling but very much alive, was none other than Cisco Ramon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you! You understand now why tags on this story were so hard.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, as usual; and, as usual, please leave a comment on the way out!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After "Welcome to Earth 2" I am officially Deceased, and I need more fanfic in my life. Can't wait to continue sharing this one with you.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know the adrenaline-shot-to-the-heart is pretty much a Hollywood myth, but sometimes you've got to go full Hollywood.
> 
> Enjoy!

Time passed strangely in the medical bay. Without her phone and without a watch, it was hard to tell how long they'd been in there working. Since pocketing the adrenaline shot, everything seemed to move even more slowly; with every movement Caitlin felt the weight of it in her pocket, the dread of discovery. When they finally took a break, she glanced up at one of the computer monitors for the time. They'd only been working a few hours—it felt like days.

On the second computer monitor, Wells had pulled up security footage from throughout the building, and it blinked there in shades of gray. Her eyes were drawn to one video feed in the bottom right corner—an overhead view of Barry's pipeline cell. He had not moved from where he had been deposited.

"Barry should've woken up by now," she said. "It's been hours. He's still unconscious."

"Like I said, time coma. People are affected differently."

"Time coma or the fact that you kicked him in the head," Caitlin snapped. She shrank back as he moved to inspect the monitor closer, then softened. "Please," she said. "Let me go down to him. Just to check his vitals, make sure he's not undergoing permanent damage." Wells stared her down, and she forced herself to stay still, stay passive. "If you want him in any kind of decent shape for your plan, you need to let me help him. He's no good to you if his body or mind is seriously compromised."

Wells' eyes bore into her, his mouth a hard line, and she felt herself collapse in on herself, once again a frightened girl summoned to the principal's office. But so, so much worse.

"Fine," Wells said. "Do your examination. Just remember your precarious position, Dr. Snow. I'll be watching."

They kept their eyes locked a moment more, then Caitlin turned away. She strode to the doorway in quick, determined steps, not daring to look back.

Down in the pipeline, she pressed her hand to the button that would open up the main doors. They slid open with a whine and she stepped cautiously through. There was Barry, lying awkwardly in his cell; even the concept of Barry in a cell seemed wrong. She was reminded uncomfortably of a bird with clipped wings, or a fish in a small tank.

As she approached the pipeline cell itself, she glanced upward. The cameras that Cisco had installed in each cell were small, almost unnoticeable, but because she knew what she was looking for she could see the glint of the small device. The most valuable commodity on earth, she'd begun to realize, was time—and she would have precious little of it if she wanted to pull this off.

At the glass door she wiped the sweat off of her palm and pressed it to the locking mechanism. It beeped and turned green under her fingers, and the large glass plate that separated the cell from the outside world lifted open. She wanted to run into the cell, to pull Barry out, but she forced herself to be calm and collected, professional. She could still feel Wells' eyes on her every move through the camera.

Gently she touched the side of Barry's face.

"Barry?" she whispered. "Barry, can you hear me?"

Nothing. He was as still and silent as before, his skin so white he may as well have been dead.

Even though she had a plan in mind, and even though she was sure Wells wouldn't knowingly risk Barry's life, Caitlin still went to work checking his vitals. By her rough estimations, everything was fairly normal, for Barry. Whether or not Wells was bluffing about the time coma, there didn't appear to be any physical damage to Barry's body aside from the head wound.

She certainly hoped that there was nothing wrong with him. This would all be a painful waste of her time if it went wrong.

Her back was to the camera, and, as stealthily as she could, she pulled out the adrenaline shot from her pocket. One hand she kept on his neck, on the pretense of taking a pulse, and with the other hand she lifted the packaging to her mouth and ripped the plastic open with her teeth. With her head bowed low, she prayed that Wells couldn't see what she was doing.

Once the shot was out of its packaging, though, she knew she needed to act fast.

She removed her fingers from Barry's neck, grasped the shot, and took a deep breath. She sent up a prayer, vague, to whoever might be able to help her most. As she clutched the shot, she almost laughed at the absurdity of it. A long shot.

Then she lifted the needle and plunged it into Barry's chest.

Time was up—there was no way to hide that from the video feed—but the effect was almost instantaneous. She removed the needle and Barry's eyes flew open. He scrambled to a sitting position, gasping like he had that time he encountered the Mist, and his hands began to vibrate.

"Barry," Caitlin said, grasping him by the knee desperately. His eyes were unfocused, traveling around the entire cell, so she shook him. "Barry, I need you to listen. We need to get out of here. Now."

"Caitlin," he said. "What? What's happening?"

"I'll explain later," Caitlin said. "Right now we need to leave. Fast. Can you do that?"

Barry pressed the heel of his hand into the space between his eyes, scrunching up his face in pain, but he nodded. Caitlin's urgency had bled into him, and she helped him to a standing position.

"We're in STAR?" he asked, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Caitlin kept a hand on his arm to steady him, but there was no time, no time...

"Take us anywhere," she pleaded. "As far away as you can get."

"Okay, okay." They both stumbled forward over the threshold of the containment cell and he put his arm around her shoulders, ready to lift her.

At that moment, a rush of energy crackled at the end of the corridor, and she and Barry were ripped apart. Her shoulder met the unforgiving floor of the passage and she rolled a few seconds before coming to a halt. She dragged herself up again, launching herself forward, but thirty feet in front of her, Barry was propelled into the back of the cell. A blur of lightning emerged and wrenched the cell door bodily down. It sealed shut with a whir, and in an instant Wells was back at Caitlin's side. He gripped her arm, the arm that had been injured in the fight with Mardon, and twisted it behind her back, and his other arm clamped over her throat.

It was all over in an instant, too fast for her to comprehend. She sputtered against the chokehold, but it was useless. In front of her, Barry rushed his cell door, banging his fists uselessly against the glass.

"See how easy it is for me?" Wells said, both for Caitlin and Barry's benefit. "See how _effortless_ it is to destroy you?"

"Let her go!" Barry yelled, throwing his shoulder against the glass. Caitlin knew it would do no good. They'd been thorough in their design of the cells. There was no way he could get out—they'd been designed for that very purpose, after all. "Do you hear me, Thawne? Let her go!"

"Thawne," Wells said, stepping closer and forcing Caitlin to shuffle forward with him. "So you've discovered me. The timelines are not quite parallel. Interesting."

"I know what you want," Barry said. "I know you want to go home. But not like this."

"Ah, but there's so much you don't know," Wells said, taking another step forward. Caitlin jerked, wheezing against the pressure, but he did not relent. "I see you've learned the general premise of my plan. It's simple enough, and you see why I need you. The details—the world I've brought you back into—those may need some explaining."

"The world you've brought me back into?" Barry said. He looked away from Wells and locked eyes with Caitlin, desperate. She tried to explain with her eyes, tried to apologize, but all she felt was fear. "What do you mean?"

"I think it would be best if I explain after I've taken care of Dr. Snow, here," Wells said. "Don't go anywhere."

Though she couldn't see him, she could hear the sneer in his voice. She and Barry kept eye contact a moment longer, Caitlin now the desperate one, but then her world became a streak of color and light. When she felt stable ground again, it was a hard metal floor, and her back hit a wall. A whirr of machinery rang in her ears, but by the time she realized what was happening, it was too late—she sprang to her feet and ran to the descending glass, but it was already closed. Her shoulder struck the door of her own containment cell, and on the other side, Wells looked on dourly.

All pretenses of a smile were gone. He observed her a moment, then reached over to the control panel for her cell.

"I suppose you'll never appreciate the irony of this," he said, pressing a few buttons. "But it satisfies my own need for amusement."

A few more button presses, and then Caitlin realized what was going on. A chill prickled on her cheeks, and she recognized the faint humming of the temperature controls in the cell. Cold air trickled in from one of the vents and slid down her spine.

"See, Mr. Allen?" Wells yelled. Caitlin peered out of her cell and realized that she could just see Barry's cell, on the opposite side of the pipeline and further down. He, too, was pressed to the glass, looking down at her. They were far enough apart that she couldn't read his expression, but she had a reasonable guess as to what it was. "Incentive. That's all you ever needed, right? Incentive?"

"Leave her out of this." Barry's voice came faintly down the pipeline, warped through the layers of protection surrounding the two cells.

"It will take a while for her to die," Wells continued. "But I imagine the stages of hypothermia are quite unpleasant. The sooner you help me, the sooner you help her."

Caitlin pounded at the glass, and Wells turned back to her with false pity in his eyes.

"I'd make yourself comfortable," he said. "Who knows how much longer my serum will take without your help?"

He strode away, the smirk plastered on his face, and Caitlin's fists lowered. The cooling system continued to whine, and she felt her very bones absorb the chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry friends, I'd forgotten that this chapter had no Cisco in it. Next time, for sure!
> 
> In the meantime, please leave a review and/or join me in losing my mind over Earth 2. I am also always open to prompts on my tumblr, especially now that so much crazy stuff is going down on the show.
> 
> And, as always, thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Sorry for the slight lateness of the update-we're here now, though, and with 150% more Cisco!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Cisco?" Iris said. While the man in front of her was struggling to right himself, she couldn't bring herself to move forward and help him. She was rooted to the spot, gaping.

He looked up, and yes, it was undoubtedly Cisco, with that long black hair and the t-shirt reading "Keep Calm and Log Out." He swayed on the spot, unfocused eyes meeting hers. "Iris? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me, it's…oh, God." Her mind was spinning out of control, her hand now sweaty on Caitlin's phone. Cisco wobbled again, and this time she rushed forward to catch him.

"Just a little woozy," he mumbled. "Just need a second to sit…time jumps…nasty."

"How are you alive?" Iris blurted out as they both sat heavily on a large piece of driftwood. Then she shook her head, trying to clear it. "Wait, did you say time jump?"

"Did you just ask me how I'm alive?" Cisco's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, that can't be good."

"You died," Iris said breathlessly. "Caitlin said you were dead."

Cisco blinked, then groaned and put his face in his hands. "Of all the alternate timelines to end up in, of course we end up in the one I've been dreaming about."

"Alright," Iris said, "you're going to have to start explaining. And quickly. Please."

"Barry's time jump," Cisco said, then he jerked his head up. "Wait. You don't know about...about Barry? Yet?"

"If I didn't, you're doing a lousy job of covering it up," Iris said. "But yes. Barry told me. Right before he..." She swallowed.

"Oh," Cisco said. "Oh! You think he died! Man, is this trippy. A whole alternate universe, a whole world Barry created..." And, finally, he caught sight of the ruined buildings, the decimated beach. "Also not great."

"Cisco."

"Right. Well, Barry didn't die that day on the beach. He ran so fast he actually went back in time, disappeared right from this timeline into a new one." He snapped his fingers. "In doing so he opened up just a slight tear in reality, like this..." He motioned at the shimmering patch he had fallen from.

The whole thing seemed wildly impossible to her, but she nodded. "Okay, so he ended up in your timeline," Iris said. "Why are you in this one now?"

"See, there we were, weeks later, minding our own business in STAR, and suddenly this big tear opens behind Barry and he disappears. Caitlin and I ran some tests on the area, and with Professor Stein's help we managed to isolate the source of the energy." By now, his hands were waving wildly, excitedly. "We deduced that something, or someone, managed to isolate Barry's energy signature created when he crossed timelines and sucked him back into the one he'd come from."

"Wells," Iris said quietly. "Harrison Wells is the Reverse Flash. He's been missing since the tidal wave."

"Yeah, we'd just managed to capture Dr. Wells ourselves," Cisco said grimly. "Which is why this was such unfortunate timing."

"And you?" Iris said. "You found a way to come through as well?"

"I'm kind of a genius," Cisco said, tapping the side of his head. He paused. "Also, Dr. Wells might have given us some hints as to how to get through." He looked down at the large round imprint in the sound. "He suggested I build a stabilizing device, which it looks like the Wells here also had. Wells in our timeline kept rambling on about the risks of time sickness, which is a terrible name if you ask me."

"What about Caitlin? Professor Stein?" Iris asked, her heart sinking. Not that she doubted Cisco's usefulness, but if he was the only one to cross through the breach, they were going to be hard-pressed to stop Wells.

"They had to stay behind to monitor the breach and keep an eye on Wells," Cisco explained. "Besides," he added in a low voice. "I had my suspicions about this timeline, and my...unfortunately dramatic demise, so I figured it would be easier for me. Time would get much weirder with two Caitlins running around at the same moment."

"I'm not sure that would be a problem," Iris said, presenting Caitlin's phone. "I just found this. I think she's been taken by Wells. Maybe at the same time he captured Barry."

"Crap." In Iris' opinion, the word seemed wildly insufficient for the situation. "How long ago?"

"I have no idea," Iris said. "I've been trying to call her, but I found this right before you arrived."

"If Wells wants Barry for the same reason as back home, they'll be at STAR," Cisco said. "Listen, I'm sure Caitlin's fine for now. But we need to get there. Fast. I'll explain on the way."

* * *

Caitlin leaned her forehead against the cool glass as another shiver passed through her. The cooling system had not relented, and her breath steamed out with each exhale. She'd stuffed her hands inside of her coat pockets, but even then she could feel them growing numb.

Down the pipeline, she watched Barry throw himself again and again against the walls of his cell. She was right about containment: it wasn't good for him. Ever since Wells had explained about the alternate timelines, about his plan, Barry had been relentless in his attempts to escape. But it was no good. She knew it as well as she did.

She wished he would stop.

"Barry!" she shouted. "Barry, calm down!"

It was near impossible for him to hear her across the chasm, but something made him pause. He leaned against the glass, panting, and angled his head to look at her. From her spot on the floor of her cell, she attempted a smile, but she knew he couldn't see it. Not from this distance.

She saw his mouth moving, yelling something to her, but that, too, was drowned out by the hum of the pipeline and the hiss of cold air in her cell. She shivered violently and watched him yell, watched him make desperate promises into thin air.

Frost was beginning to build around the edges of the glass.

* * *

"Okay, this is weird," Cisco said. "This is really, really weird."

They stepped into his apartment. Iris moved straight for the computer, while Cisco lingered in the doorway, holding up his hands like he was worried the place might collapse around them at any instant.

"I mean, it's trippy, right? This is my apartment, but from alternate timeline me...but my key still works in the door. It's the same exact apartment, but...this isn't at all freaking you out?"

"You said you needed to stop for your computer," Iris said. "So let's get it and get out of here."

"Right," Cisco said. "That laptop there. We'll need it."

Iris shoved the laptop into a bag as Cisco sat down at one of his desktop computers and booted it up.

"I'm going to try and hack into STAR," he said. "Try and get a lay of the land. Get an idea of what Wells is up to."

"Won't he be able to tell if you're hacking?"

"Not if I'm as good as I've been led to believe I am," Cisco said with a wink.

On the screen he typed in some complicated code, way beyond anything Iris had learned in her high school computer science classes, and within seconds he'd pulled up a series of video feeds from within STAR labs. They were grainy and dark—as Iris remembered, Caitlin had kept most of the lights off when she'd been there alone. She leaned over Cisco's shoulder and searched each box, looking for some kind of life.

"Wells," Cisco said instantly, pointing to one of the cameras that displayed the med bay of STAR. Wells was there, fiddling with something too small to see. He held it up to the light, and Iris squinted. "What is that?"

Cisco shrugged, but pointed to another screen. "Look."

Iris looked to where he was pointing, and her heart dropped. It was one of the video feeds from what looked like a padded cell, a cramped space no more than a few feet wide in each direction. Inside, unmistakably, was Barry.

"What is this?" she asked. "Where is he?"

"Metahuman prisons," Cisco explained, fingers flying across the keyboard. "We developed them from the power cells in the pipeline. Rigged them out so they would dampen meta powers. Or, at least, not allow them to use their powers for escape."

"In other words, the perfect place to keep Barry captive," Iris said, chewing on a fingernail. "We can get him out, though, right? Can't you do something from here?"

"Wells has reconfigured the locking mechanism," Cisco said. "I can't access it. I'd have to go in manually and mess with the circuitry. I'm not sure exactly what he's done with it, but I suspect that only he is able to open it right now."

"Okay, so we create a diversion," Iris said. "We go in, distract Wells, and you get Barry free."

"You make it sound so easy," Cisco teased. "Like we're not going to be distracting a psychopathic killer from the future. With super speed."

"No," Iris said, the idea dawning on her. "It won't be easy, but we do have an advantage. In this world, Wells killed you. He has no idea you're here...he has no idea that you would be sneaking into STAR. A complete element of surprise."

"Hm." Cisco tapped at the keyboard idly, considering this. "You're right. But that would put you in Wells' line of fire. I don't think any of us want to take that risk."

"What about me?" Iris said. "What if I want to take that risk?"

"I..."

But he was silenced by Iris' hand on his shoulder. Another video feed, a few slots down from the one showing Barry, had caught her attention, and she dug her nails into Cisco's shoulder.

"Caitlin," she breathed.

It took Cisco only another second to see what she was seeing. "Crap," he said, and, again, understatement.

Caitlin sat in her own containment cell, curled up with her knees to her chest, head pressed up against the glass separating her from the outside world. Even through the grainy video feed, Iris could see that Caitlin's breath was puffing out in visible bursts.

"Wells trapped her, too," Iris said. "Am I wrong in thinking that she's freezing?"

"He may be using her as bait for Barry," Cisco said. "You know, in order to make sure Barry does what he wants. That's why he hasn't killed her yet."

"Yet," Iris said, her eyes drilling into the video feed. "Cisco, we need to go. Now."

"I'm totally with you," Cisco said. "And I think I have a plan. You have my laptop?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, please leave a comment on your way out. I love reading all of your theories and speculations and whatnot (even if I'm terrible at replying to them!).
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did everyone see the Iris/Caitlin team-up scenes last night? That's exactly the kind of thing I wanted to see when I started writing this fic, and I'm so glad it came to fruition on the show, if only for a few minutes. More ladies helping ladies, please.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for the incredible number of reviews last chapter! I'm glad that you're all taking to the story so generously.
> 
> In this chapter, specifically, I might take a few liberties with the floorplan of STAR, simply because I'm not entirely sure how it is all laid out. I may be completely wrong, but I've always imagined the pipeline and the tachyon device being in the lower levels of the building-so that's where they'll be. Feel free to correct me if I've missed something!
> 
> Enjoy!

There was definitely frost on the glass now, and it was becoming too cold for Caitlin to safely press her skin to. She retreated to the back corner of the cell, some subconscious part of her convinced that being pressed into a corner would somehow protect her from the chill. As a doctor, she knew full well the effects of prolonged exposure to cold, and right now she wished she didn't.

At least she would recognize when she eventually hit all of the stages of hypothermia. At least she'd be able to track her own decline.

For now, she shivered, buried her face in her knees to shield it from the chill, and tried not to think about how much she'd failed Barry.

* * *

"I like your plan better than mine," Cisco said as they pulled into the empty lot across the street from STAR.

"Better than 'storming the castle'?" Iris said, raising an eyebrow. "Not very subtle, is it?"

Cisco shrugged and tinkered with his laptop some more. "Worked in the _Princess Bride_."

Iris nodded at the laptop. "Are you sure you can make this work?"

"I should be able to tamper with a few of the security cameras without Wells noticing," he said. "I'm freezing a few of them in the basement—we'll go through one of the back entrances of the building, which should take us straight through to the pipeline."

"And Wells?"

"Hey, you were the one who insisted on distracting him," Cisco said. "You'll come up from the basement, too. It will give you some element of surprise, at least. I'll have Barry out in no time, and then we can come up and help you out."

"Any bright ideas for defending myself against Wells before then?" Iris said.

"Actually, yes," Cisco said. He dug around in his pocket and produced three green oval-shaped objects, tipped with nasty-looking needles. "In my timeline, the Arrow helped take down Wells with a speed-dampening serum. He fired it from arrows, but stabbing them into Wells by hand works too."

Iris accepted two of the arrowheads, pushing one back to Cisco. "Just in case."

"Good call," Cisco said. He pocketed the third arrowhead and made a few more taps on his laptop before shutting it. "Alright, cameras are frozen. I wasn't able to freeze the ones in the containment cells, for obvious reasons, but hopefully Wells will be too focused on you to notice me going all Prison Break downstairs." Iris swallowed, and Cisco put a hand on her arm. "Hey, you still good?"

"Fine," Iris said. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Huddled in her back corner, Caitlin pulled her hands out of her pockets and studied them.

Tears had frozen on her cheeks, and her shivering had turned into tremors, but she no longer felt cold. She felt nothing.

She attempted to curl her fingers. It wasn't even that she felt numb. No, it was more than that.

She felt nothing.

* * *

"Here," Cisco said, and he wrenched open the back door.

Iris had never been back here, in these alleys and passageways surrounding STAR. The only times she'd visited STAR, those occasions where she would sneak an hour or two after work to check on Barry while he was in his coma, she'd come through the front, announcing to the world that for some reason she had enough confidence to embrace whatever help the ruined lab could provide. From this back door, she felt as if she were walking in with shame.

"It's not very secure for a lab containing so many secrets, is it?" Iris said.

"You don't even know the half of it," Cisco said, fiddling with the key. "With all of the random people who surprise us by coming through the front door, imagine how screwed we would be if people found out about these back entrances."

The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Iris raised her eyebrows.

"After you."

Cisco, laptop balanced in one hand, crept into the open hallway, and Iris tiptoed behind him. Although the halls were clearly empty, and too far down in the basement of the building for Wells to hear them, she still felt the need to control her breathing, measure her steps. Ahead of her, Cisco appeared to have the same idea—he proceeded slowly, silently.

On his laptop screen he'd pulled up the most important video feeds, as well as a few side programs, which he paused to adjust every so often. He'd wormed his way into the lightboard of the building as well, ensuring that the motion-sensitive lights of the hallway didn't turn on and give them away. As a result, Iris felt herself peering into dark corners, the hairs on her arms prickling. As a child she'd always comforted Barry when he was too afraid of the dark to sleep, but now all that bravado was seeping away. Now she was the one afraid of the dark.

Creeping along in those dark hallways, alone with her thoughts, Iris fought the urge to be sick. Adrenaline pumped through her, heightening her senses, but she was also finally allowed the space to withdraw from the present. She and Cisco had been so active the past hour and a half, the epiphany had not had time to catch up to her.

Barry was alive.

As sick as that made her, as sick as she was in her realization that he and Caitlin were in mortal danger, she grasped at the thought, held it close to her chest, examined every inch of it. She didn't know what she would do if they failed. She didn't know what she would do if they lost Barry again. Then again, if he was killed by the Reverse Flash, they would undoubtedly be next in line.

Thinking about that, in such dark passageways, was not productive.

As they passed one of the large rooms of the basement, Cisco slowed. He lowered the arm supporting the laptop, his attention caught by something beyond the doorway. By the time Iris caught up to him, he had stopped completely.

"What is it?" she asked. "Cisco?"

He didn't say a word, just stared. Iris drew close, looked in the direction he was staring. As unfamiliar as she was with the building, the purpose of the room was not immediately clear to her. Near the back of the room, looming, was a metal stage with tall prongs surrounding it—like the skeleton of a fishbowl. A few computer banks were set up around the room, but the place looked deserted.

Then she saw the body.

"Oh my God," she said, covering her mouth.

"I can think of stronger expletives," Cisco said in a trembling voice. "Much, much stronger."

The figure, lying in a patch of red on the ground, was unmistakable. Shining black hair, sneakers, a t-shirt the same color as the one Cisco now wore.

"We should go," Iris said hurriedly, worried that Cisco would puke there in that hallway. His face had gone very white.

"I don't know whether I should be fascinated or horrified," Cisco said, as if he hadn't heard her. "It's not every day you step into the scene of your own nightmare. I can see the headline now. Cisco Ramon: scientists and psychologists love him."

"This won't affect the timelines, will it?" Iris said. "Meeting your past self...isn't that usually a problem?"

"Only in _Harry Potter_ ," Cisco said. "Besides, I'm not really meeting myself, am I?" He gave her a tight, nervous smile, then turned away. Iris took one last look inside the room, at the still form on the ground, before following him.

Before long, they reached another point at which Cisco stopped. This time, however, he held up a finger to let her know to be quiet.

"The pipeline," he mouthed.

Iris looked around. The passage they had turned into looked less like a hallway and more like the inside of a machine. Pipes and wires lined the walls, glowing a faint blue and red. A large circular door stood at the end of the passage. Thick metal, to seal off the particle accelerator itself. Iris remembered Caitlin telling her the story of her fiancé, the one who had been locked inside as the accelerator exploded.

The explosion that had given everyone their powers. There was so much that Iris still didn't know.

Cisco fiddled with his laptop for a few more seconds, messing with alarms and security cameras and God knows what else, then nodded at the unlocking mechanism to the side of the door. Swallowing hard, Iris stepped forward and put her hand to it.

If this went wrong, if Cisco failed to take the proper precautions—if Wells detected them in the pipeline now, it would all be over quickly.

The thought struck Iris, then, that she'd never called her dad, or Eddie. The realization hit her like a blow, reverberating hollowly in her ribcage. It was too late now. It was too late for a lot of things.

She took a deep breath, and the door opened.

Though the pipeline hummed with energy, it was surprisingly cool inside. Iris didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this: a cavernous space, curving into dark corners, so vast and empty she thought her footsteps would echo for years. The walls were dotted every so often with small pods. The pods were empty, but Iris recognized them immediately.

"This is where you keep metahumans?" she hissed.

Cisco nodded. "Caitlin and Barry should be down a ways, by the main entrance we usually use to the pipeline. It will be a bit of a walk."

That was an understatement, Iris thought privately. Everything was so uniform, so clean, it felt as if they weren't moving at all. Just walking in endless circles, further into darkness. Cisco paused every once in a while to adjust something on his laptop, but now that they were here, Iris doubted there would be cameras watching them. Wells himself would be the one to find them if they tripped up and made any sound.

"Hold up," Cisco said. "It's right up there."

As focused as she was on being silent, Iris had hardly realized that the light in the pipeline had been steadily increasing. While light was still sparse, she saw now that a few of the pods were lit up, and—her stomach flipped—people moved inside of them.

"Barry's cell is a priority, obviously," Cisco said, crouching against the wall and propping his laptop up on his knees. "That one will be right at the front near the entrance. But Caitlin's…"

"There." Iris' heart dropped like a stone as she pointed. Cisco had repeated often that Caitlin's cell was cold, that the cooling system had been on full blast. It wasn't until now that Iris understood just what that meant, or how to identify Caitlin's cell. She saw it now, the only cell in the pipeline whose glass door was gritty with frost, so thoroughly covered that it almost disguised the small brunette figure huddled in the back corner. They were still far away, but Iris recognized Caitlin instantly.

"Okay," Cisco breathed. "She hasn't moved for a while, so I think it would be safe to freeze the security camera in her cell." He winced. "Sorry, bad choice of words."

Iris was more fixated on his first words. _Caitlin hadn't moved for a while_. The thought set Iris' heart pounding, her worry for Barry temporarily overshadowed by her worry for Caitlin.

"If you do that, Wells won't be able to see us getting her out, right?" Iris said.

"Theoretically."

"Theoretically?"

"Shh!"

But his warning was unnecessary, for two reasons. One, he clapped a hand over her mouth and drew her back to the wall, effectively rendering her speechless. Two, she could see plainly what he could: the main doors to the pipeline opening, and Wells stepping in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Like I said, I am so humbled and excited by your responses to this story. Please, take a moment to leave your thoughts below!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the wonderful comments! You are all so great.
> 
> As happened a lot during this fic, I actually conceived of this "speed serum" right before the show introduced the concept with the Velocity series. As a result, the concepts are pretty similar, and you can probably just think of this serum as a version of Velocity 9 (nasty side effects and all).
> 
> Enjoy!

"Hello, Mr. Allen," Wells said, his drawl echoing down the chamber to where Cisco and Iris hunched. "I trust you're ready to begin?"

"Let Caitlin go."

"There's still time yet. Patience, Barry."

Iris peeled Cisco's hand away from her mouth, but it was hardly necessary. A moment later, he went back to his laptop, bringing up the video feed from Barry's cell. Iris' attention flickered from the scene being played out live in front of them and the one captured more intimately through the video monitor. She was struck suddenly by how small Barry looked, trapped in that cell. How could he be the hero she'd tracked for so many months?

"I'm more than willing to let Dr. Snow go if you're prepared to cooperate," Wells continued. "Believe it or now, I'm not keen on killing her. I've grown quite fond of everyone in this lab."

"Right," Barry said. "That's why you killed Cisco."

Beside Iris, Cisco flinched.

"Casualties of war," Wells said in a steely voice. "If you know what's good for you, Mr. Allen, you won't become one."

At the end of the pipeline, Wells stood stock still, arms crossed. In the video, Barry could have been his reflection.

"This isn't my world, my timeline, you know," Barry tested. "Why should I risk everything to protect it? I know what your plan is, and the risks."

"We both know you're better than that," Wells said. Iris couldn't see his face, but she knew he was smiling. "Besides, this is the world you left. It is still a world you know. These are still people you know."

But were they? Iris considered this for the first time, the possibility of Barry in his other timeline, the Iris of the other timeline—did he actually know her, as she was now? Or was she now a ghost? Was she already dead to him?

"If you're going to refuse me, go right ahead," Wells continued. "But realize that I still believe you can hurt, Mr. Allen. I believe that in this timeline, you can still feel pain. Just as Dr. Snow does, right now, as she slowly freezes to death just feet away from you."

There was a pause. Iris held her breath, afraid that even from this distance Wells would be able to hear her. Beside her, she thought Cisco did the same. At last, Barry's shoulders sagged.

"Give it to me."

"A wise choice," Wells said, pulling something out of his pocket. "For _all_ of us."

The something from his pocket was pushed through a narrow slot in the cell that Iris suspected was used for meal delivery. Barry picked it up and examined it for a second, and Iris' heart dropped when she realized that it was a syringe.

"What, don't like to do the dirty work yourself?" Barry spat.

"Can't have an escape attempt," Wells said. "I don't want you damaged."

A tremor ran through Iris' body, though by now she didn't even feel the cold of the pipeline. She looked on with dread as Barry rolled up a sleeve and exposed the paleness of his forearm. She wanted to break away from Cisco, sprint down the pipeline and create her promised distraction now, before Barry did anything stupid—that's what she'd always done, tried to keep him from doing stupid things—but it was the wrong time, the wrong place. What could they do against Wells now, if he discovered them actually in the pipeline? They'd be locked up in seconds.

So she could only watch, horrified, her best friend taking the needle to his arm and pushing down the plunger.

She let out the breath she had been holding.

Barry dropped the empty syringe and it rolled away from him. He stood there a moment more before tipping sideways, his hand catching the wall before he could collapse completely.

"Vertigo?" Wells said. "It should pass. We are jumpstarting every cell in your body, after all."

He turned on his heel and started out of the pipeline.

"Wait," Barry said, leaning more heavily now on the wall. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, the serum won't be in full effect for another fifteen minutes or so," Wells said. "I've got better things to do than watch you vomit."

He kept walking, and Barry lurched forward, his fists connecting hard with the glass. "Let Caitlin out first!" he shouted. "I did what you asked!"

"You haven't done anything yet," Wells said. "I thought I taught you to be patient."

Then he was gone, and the doors hissed closed.

In his cell, Barry toppled to the floor.

Cisco and Iris looked at each other, and the communication instantly sparked between them.

"Caitlin," Iris said.

"Barry."

The launched themselves from their hiding spot, branching off in two directions halfway across the floor. Cisco kept running, while Iris halted at the door to Caitlin's cell. Even from the outside, Iris could feel the cold. It radiated from the cell door, condensing in front of her like the air from a freezer door. Inside, barely visible through the frosted glass, Caitlin sat huddled in a corner.

"Hang on, hang on," Iris muttered, reaching for the control panel. Luckily, Caitlin's cell hadn't been modified by Wells, and after a few swipes at the screen, Iris managed to find the unlock button. With a beep, the door rose, and with it came a tidal wave of freezing air.

Even before the door was completely open, Iris rushed forward into the cell. Her hands tingled immediately from the cold, but she reached forward toward Caitlin and grasped her by the sleeve.

"Cait," she said softly. "Hey, Cait, I'm here."

The rise and fall of Caitlin's shoulders was hardly reassuring when she failed to respond. Iris shook her some more.

"It's Iris, Caitlin. Cisco and I are going to get you out of here, okay?"

Finally, to Iris' relief, Caitlin shifted, slowly raising her head.

"Cisco?" she said.

Iris tried to conceal the worry that spiked at the sight of Caitlin's face. She was deathly pale, her eyes unfocused, her eyelashes crusted over with frost. Instead of voicing the concern, she tried a forced smile.

"He's here," she said. "We're both here to rescue you. Come on, let's get you out of the cold."

When Caitlin nodded, Iris gripped her under the arm and helped her to her feet, noticing the stiffness in Caitlin's body but the surprising lack of emotion on her face. Instead of wincing at the movement, Caitlin looked detached, curiously impassive about the ordeal. She kept her eyes focused ahead, and Iris tried to do the same.

Once they were out of the cell and into mildly warmer air, Caitlin finally spoke again.

"I don't feel anything," she said.

Iris gripped her around the waist and by the hand, leading her further down the pipeline like she might guide an old woman.

"I know," she said. "We'll get you warmed up."

"No," Caitlin said, at last looking her in the eye, devastatingly intense. "You don't know. I don't feel _anything_."

Her gaze was so unnerving that Iris was compelled to look away. She struggled to find words as they took shaky steps together. Caitlin was supposed to be the doctor. She was supposed to be the one diagnosing things and healing things and generally coming up with the right things to say in these situations.

Finally, Iris settled on: "You're just numb. It's one of the stages of hypothermia, I think. Losing feeling. Isn't that right?"

"I don't feel numb," Caitlin said. "I don't feel the cold. I told you."

Iris kept her gaze away. "Okay," she said, and gave up the conversation. Concern mounted in her chest. The sooner they got out of here, the better. Caitlin's hand was icy in hers.

At the entrance to the pipeline, Iris led Caitlin forward toward where Cisco was fiddling with the control panel to Barry's cell. His back was turned to them, his laptop deposited on the ground by his feet. Caitlin stopped in her tracks, and Cisco turned his head to look at them.

He and Caitlin made eye contact, and Caitlin broke away so quickly from Iris that it was almost as if she hadn't been nearly frozen to death at all. Despite the fact that Cisco hadn't moved his hands from the control panel, Caitlin threw her arms around him, a sob escaping her. Cisco extracted himself from his work to embrace her back, making brief eye contact with Iris over Caitlin's shoulder.

"You're cold," he said, his voice muffled by Caitlin's jacket.

"You're alive," Caitlin responded.

At this, Cisco squeezed his eyes shut and pulled a shaking Caitlin closer. Iris swallowed thickly and heeded the impulse to avert her eyes. Her gaze fell innately to Barry's cell, and, naturally, Barry himself. Her friend was now in a similar position to Caitlin when she'd been locked up: head pushed into his knees, shoulder pressed to the glass. Though he didn't have the same cold problem that Caitlin had, he shivered violently, and Iris could've sworn she saw ripples of yellow lightning along his arms.

Swallowing her fear, she crouched down next to the glass and put a hand up to it. She was reminded, suddenly, of her and Barry, squashed up together on the couch years prior, empty popcorn bowls reflecting light cast by the TV. Iris had put up a show of _begrudgingly_ acquiescing to Barry's movie request—it was what she was expected to do. She'd heard him sniffing as two men from the future put their hands up to the glass in parallel to one another, but she hadn't dared look at him. She'd fled to her room after the movie was over, citing a headache. She'd cried for an hour, unsure of who she was crying for.

"Barry," she said now, quietly. "Hey, Bar. Can you hear me?"

Agonizingly slow, he lifted his head and met her eyes, and Iris' breath was stolen from her. Partly because of the way he looked—pale, shaky, pained—and partly because his look reminded her of that day at the park, the way they'd met like two people searching for something, pursued by fear and adrenaline. This Barry was her Barry, the one she'd kissed all of those days ago, but now she felt something thicker than glass separating them.

"You shouldn't be here," Barry said, shuddering as electricity shot up his arms.

"Neither should you," Iris said, and it hit her then how much she actually believed it. "This isn't your time anymore."

"I'm sorry…" Barry mumbled. His head dropped back down and he moaned into his knees.

"I knew that the serum would be dangerous," Caitlin said, crouching down beside Iris. Iris glanced over at her, concerned, but the other woman wasn't even shivering. "He's having a bad reaction."

"So?"

"So, he's going to be very little help if Wells comes back." She bit her lip. "The effects should wear off on their own, but…"

"But?"

"But if they don't, Barry could die. His body is unstable. I can make something to counteract the serum, something to neutralize the speed in his system…"

"Something like this?" Iris pulled out one of the arrowheads from her pocket and Caitlin frowned. "Cisco brought them. They supposedly took down the Reverse Flash in his timeline. Something about nanotechnology and…well, science?"

The smallest of smiles flickered at the corner of Caitlin's mouth. "Science, yes."

"We have a problem," Cisco said. "I can't get this thing open, and we're almost out of time."

"I'll distract him," Iris said, leaping to her feet without a thought. "That was the plan originally, wasn't it? I'll pretend like I've come through the main doors and try to reason with him. Buy you all more time."

"Iris, no," Caitlin said, also standing. "Wells is dangerous."

"He won't kill me if he thinks I can be used for leverage," Iris said firmly. _I hope_ , she added privately. "Just do me a favor and get Barry out fast. We need him back to normal if we're going to take down Wells."

Though Caitlin still seemed hesitant, Cisco nodded. "Go. We'll have him out."

Iris tore herself away without looking at Caitlin—that crumpled expression was too much. She quickened her pace halfway down the hallway and broke into a run at the end of it. There was no time to lose. No time to waste. No point in arguing.

Facing Mardon had been one thing. Now, all of that seemed like a game. The Wizard Wand, the barn, the rescue mission, it all seemed like a storybook. The sterile walls of STAR squeezed all of that out of her, pressure forcing out every non-essential part of her existence. The only things that remained were incredible determination and overwhelming fear, and she struggled to place one over the other. They fought for place within the single thought that drove her: _Am I going to die here_?

She had just made it into a full-tilt sprint down the first hallway when the walls lit up with red and startling heat rushed over her face. She was too late, but she didn't stop running, couldn't stop running, even as her fingers clenched the arrowhead.

The Reverse Flash waited for her with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed by now, cliffhangers are my jam. Stay tuned for Wednesday's update-we're nearing the end.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and please leave a comment on your way out.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit...I am pretty nervous for this chapter. But here we go!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Cisco, please hurry," Caitlin said. "Barry's bottoming out. His body wasn't ready for this."

"I'm trying. Just a few…more…minutes." Cisco grunted as he wrenched open the control panel to expose the wiring.

"Iris doesn't have a few more minutes," Caitlin said stiffly. "I'm going up there to help."

"Oh, no you're not," Cisco said, waving a hand even without turning around. "Caitlin, you were almost just turned into a human popsicle."

Caitlin bristled. "I'm fine. I. Feel. Fine. You don't know what it's been like here. You can't tell me not to go after Iris."

Cisco paused and tossed her a frown over his shoulder. "Sorry. Don't bite my head off. Here I thought you were happy to see me alive."

The words tore a blazing hole through her chest. She opened her mouth to say more, but at that moment, there was no room for further argument. A scream bounced down the walls from the hallway beyond. Caitlin's head snapped toward the sound, while Cisco's jerked back to the control panel. He began working on it with increasing urgency as Caitlin started running to the hallway. She had hardly made it a few feet when flashes of red erupted and Iris came into view, flung backward into the doorway of the pipeline.

An arrowhead clattered into the pipeline beside her, useless, as a figure zipped forward and reached down to grab her by the front of the shirt. The Reverse Flash dragged her upward, but Caitlin's shout drew his attention her direction.

"You—" He cut himself off, gaze shifting to Cisco and lingering. His expression unreadable, he said, "You couldn't stay dead, could you?"

"Sorry," Cisco choked out. "I've got a great and noble destiny to live."

He ripped at a wire in the control panel, and Barry's cell opened wide.

The next few moments were a whirl of activity. The instinct to run to everyone at once hit Caitlin and immobilized her, but in the next blink she was stumbling backward as Wells sped past her en route to Cisco. In a flurry of lightning, Cisco was pounded to the ground as Iris had been, Wells kneeling over him with a hand raised. Caitlin had not seen Cisco's death in this timeline, but now that she saw the way Wells' hand vibrated, the details of her Cisco's bloodied chest came together.

There was no way she could get to them in time, but there was no need: with agility that would have been impressive even for the Flash, Cisco wrenched an arrowhead from his pocket and jammed it between Wells' ribs. The vibrating in Wells' hand slowed, even if it didn't dissipate completely, giving Cisco enough time to knee upwards and roll away.

Meanwhile, Iris had picked herself off of the ground and was dragging an arm across a bleeding lip as she dashed past Caitlin toward Barry. Caitlin followed, tripping over herself in her haste.

"This serum," Iris said, producing her second arrowhead which had not been knocked away. "You say it will counter-act whatever Wells gave him?"

Caitlin bit her lip. The truth was, she hadn't been around to see whatever last-minute adjustments the scientist had made to the speed serum. Her formula had been hypothetical, a shot in the dark—without tests, who knew what was actually happening in Barry's body. Not to mention, she'd hardly even talked with the Arrow, let alone seen his biochemical work in action.

"I'm not sure," she said. "It could very well make things worse. But it may be the only shot we have right now. We need to hurry."

Her timing couldn't have been more right. As soon as the words left her mouth, a strangled cry from Cisco caught her attention. The momentum of her turn was cut off by a rush of speed, a kick to the gut that sent her sprawling.

Wells' speed was diminished, not gone—the realization hit harder than the kick—and he was still faster than any of them. He had Iris by the throat in seconds, and even when she kneed him in the groin he barely relented. In another effort, she reached out and clawed at his eyes. He roared and swatted at her hands, and she seized the opportunity to knee him again.

By that point Caitlin had just managed to pick herself up from the ground and launch herself forward. Just as Iris ducked beneath a blurry right hook, Caitlin leaped onto Wells' back and wrapped her arms around his throat. She'd always been told to use her weight to her advantage, so she jerked backward and kicked at the crook of his knees. Wells bent, but didn't fall.

Suddenly Caitlin was zooming backward, her hair rippling in front of her with the speed. Her back hit a wall, and Wells pinned her there, one hand raised to strike, the vibrations starting in the tips of his fingers and working their way down his arm.

"I wish you wouldn't make me do this," he said, in a voice that indicated he didn't give a damn. "I think we could have had a beneficial partnership, if you'd cooperated."

"You know what I think?" Caitlin breathed. The words nearly stuck in her throat, caught by fear, but she spoke past her thrumming heart. "I think you're pathetic."

"And you know what I think?" Wells echoed, his breath ghosting off of her face. "I think that you've overstayed your welcome."

His hand descended. A rush of fear so powerful she couldn't comprehend it cascaded through Caitlin's body, and she jerked back against the wall. In the jolt of fear, the jolt of adrenaline, something else emerged from her veins; it pulsed outward, dousing her in cold, solidifying in the air in front of her.

Wells flew backward in a burst of cold and light and sharpness. A blast of ice from Caitlin's fingertips. He crumpled to the ground and the pipeline erupted in silence.

The world itself seemed to freeze in shock, waiting for explanation or confirmation as Caitlin now did. She understood how Barry felt, seeing things in slow-motion, with unlimited time to process, and still not enough. However, unlike Barry, she could not trust her own eyes. She could not piece together the visual of the snow at her fingertips and the reality she'd known, the reality of false normalcy. The two struggled to piece themselves together, but no matter how many times she blinked, they stayed stubbornly separate.

Ice.

Trembling fingers were all she could comprehend. Trembling fingers, which had just moments ago produced the impossible. They couldn't be hers, could they?

"Fascinating," a voice, now disjointed on the edges of her awareness, filtered through to her. "My locking you in a freezer was meant to be for my personal amusement only—I had no idea it would actually trigger your powers."

Practically choking on panic, Caitlin looked up. "What did you say?"

"All this time, I've been waiting to see if the particle accelerator had given you powers," Wells said, grunting as he lifted himself to his elbows. The front of his shirt was white with frost, and he winced at the movement. "It turns out you just needed a little persuasion."

"I don't have powers," Caitlin said hollowly. "I'm not a metahuman."

"Then I suppose what you just did was a convincing magic trick," Wells countered. He let out a breath and levered himself up to his feet. "Ah, Dr. Snow. What a future _you_ have in front of you. Or would have, if I wasn't forced to kill you."

"What have you done to me?" Caitlin said, looking back down at her shaking hands.

"Nothing you wouldn't have discovered yourself, I presume," Wells said. " _Metahuman_ Caitlin Snow. What a plot twist."

Caitlin looked up, registered his sneering face, panicked, and burst outward once more.

Ice flew in all directions, sending a deadly barrier around her. Wells, anticipating it this time, sped away from the blast. He skidded to a halt, opening his arms wide. "Is that your best shot?" he said. "Come on, Snow. Channel your anger. Your fear."

He jerked forward and, frightened, Caitlin sent out another surge of ice. Wells dodged easily.

Her breath coming quickly now, she held up a hand experimentally. The ice came rapidly, rushing from her fingertips toward Wells. A low chuckle accompanied his evasion.

"You know what they call you in my time?" he said. "Killer Frost. People fear you. The Flash has never been able to stop you."

She could feel it now, the powerful chill that had acclimatized to her blood, the same dreadful nothingness she'd felt after leaving the pipeline cell. Caitlin paused, terror hitching in her throat. Ice, unbidden, launched outward, and she pulled her hand to her chest in an attempt to stop it. She had to stop it, make it disappear, eradicate it before it—before—

Was he right? Was this the beginning of her becoming a monster? She thought about all of the metahumans they'd encountered, all of the scared, lonely people whose powers had suddenly exploded into existence as hers did now.

And she fought Barry? And he lost?

"I don't believe you," she said, but even as she said it, she knew the words were empty.

Wells' eyes narrowed. "Prove it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you could take a moment to leave your thoughts, I would really appreciate it. You guys make me smile. See you Sunday.
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Thanks for all of your support of the last chapter! I've been so nervous about this story, especially these last chapters, but it's great to see that you guys are just taking it all in stride.
> 
> Enjoy chapter 17!

"Prove it."

Wells zipped sideways. Caitlin reached out to stop him, sending out a torrent of frost, but it was too late. He evaded it and reached his destination, scooping up Iris and holding her in front of him as a shield.

"Prove it, Snow," he said. "Prove that you're not something to be feared." He jolted Iris, his arm firm around her throat, and Iris locked eyes with Caitlin across the hallway. "Ice us both, you stop me. If not, I kill her myself, then Cisco, then you…and when I'm bored with that, I will torture Barry Allen until he gives me what I want. It's your choice."

Caitlin's arm was still outstretched, shaking. Her eyes were fixed on Iris', but at this distance she couldn't tell what the other woman was trying to tell her. Was it permission to take her shot? Risk Iris' life for the sake of stopping Wells? That was what they had been doing all along, wasn't it?

Still, Wells' words echoed in her ears. _People fear you_.

She lowered her hand incrementally, raised it again. So much adrenaline pumped through her that she hardly registered other sensations, but she was vaguely aware of how sick she felt, her stomach roiling with indecision. In the thrumming quiet, she could sense her power, practically touch it, and was aware of exactly which fear she might use to trigger it. Suddenly it seemed so easy.

Too easy.

"Kill me or not—I couldn't care less," Wells continued. "But I've waited too long for nothing. You have the remarkable ability to make your own future, right here, right now. I have no qualms about killing Ms. West, but if you make your choice—"

He was cut off by Iris, bringing her head back into his face, her free hand emerging from her pocket with her second arrowhead and jamming it into the soft flesh under Wells' arm. He released her and she dove sideways, and Caitlin took her shot. The fear that had been rooting her to the spot rose to the surface at her bidding and she harnessed it, launching a stream of ice directly at Wells. He was too slow, now, to move.

Caitlin relished the look of utter surprise on his face as he dropped.

"I really just wanted him to shut up." Iris panted as she lifted herself to her feet. She moved cautiously to the unconscious Wells, his chest covered with frost, and swiped at a bloody nose. "He should stay down for a while. Two doses of the Arrow's serum and your ice blast. But…you think he'll be okay, don't you?"

She looked back up at Caitlin, but Caitlin was immobilized in place. Behind Iris, Barry had gotten to his feet. His body crackled with electricity, his very skin buzzing as if it might soon dissolve out of existence. Even from a distance, she could see that something wasn't right.

"Who are you?" he said in a rough voice that wasn't a thing like that of the Barry she knew. "Your powers—you think they give you a right to terrorize these people?"

"Barry," Caitlin said, her resolve wavering, "it's me."

"Come on, man." Cisco picked himself up slowly from the floor, rubbing his head. "It's Caitlin."

"I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone else." And the words sounded so distinctly _Barry_ , and yet so much darker and deeper, that Caitlin stood conflicted for a moment more.

Then all doubt was erased as he zoomed forward. Suddenly his hands were on her arms, fingers digging in above her elbows, and Wells flashed before her eyes again, the panic and the helplessness. Her hands were on his chest in an instant, and he rocketed backward, clawing at the ice that had spread across his plain shirt and breathing hard.

"Barry!" Iris called. She began running toward them, but Cisco held out a hand to stop her. Her face crumpled. "What's wrong with him?"

"The serum Wells gave him," Caitlin said slowly, looking hard at Barry where he stood a few feet away. Aside from the electricity arcing across his body, his eyes now sparked and flared with angry light. Not _his_ eyes. The eyes of some unstoppable creature. "It's wreaking havoc on his body, driving him mad. The Speed Force—it's overwhelming him. It was always a calculated risk, but one I thought I could fix."

"Yeah, until Wells locked you up," Cisco said. "Great, evil Barry. Now, again, might be the _perfect_ time for a cold gun!" he shouted at nobody in particular.

Caitlin blinked. "We have one," she said, not daring to look away from Barry for even a second.

"No," Iris said. "Caitlin. You don't have to do this."

"Barry's dangerous." Caitlin raised her hand. "I can stop him. Wells said he's never been able to beat me."

Everything stilled so much she could count her heartbeats. Barry's unstable vibrations made ripples through the floor and rattled her bones, and she saw her future suddenly with stunning clarity. It was so easy, close enough to touch, and all at once her outstretched hand felt as if it might be reaching for that future also.

"Barry doesn't need _Killer Frost_ ," Iris said. "He needs Caitlin Snow. He needs his doctor."

Barry gasped and rubbed at the frostbite-inducing spot on his chest, the pain and shock of it clearly warring with the madness of the Speed Force. He was dangerous when injured and cornered—she knew that from experience—but gradually she lowered her hand and took a step forward.

He sensed her movement and looked up at her with those crazed, lightning-blurred eyes, and she paused. The doubt, the fear, welled up inside of her, but she forced it down, forced herself to control it.

"Barry," she said. "It's me, Caitlin. Can you hear me in there? You need to take a deep breath."

His head snapped up, and she stopped in her tracks.

"This isn't you. You don't hurt people. Your body—if you don't calm down, it's going to destroy itself. I know you're hurting, but that's never stopped you before. You can _fight this_."

Her breath caught as, for what felt like the millionth time, she was overwhelmed in the blink of an eye. Her back hit the floor and Barry's knee pressed down into her sternum. His hand found her throat and her arms automatically went up to his wrist in an attempt to pry it free.

The fear, the lack of oxygen, dredged up the reserves of her new powers. She felt them creeping through her veins toward her clenched fingers, the beginnings of frost trickling up Barry's arms, but she closed her eyes and focused all of her energy on silencing it. In her core, she willed the churning emotions to stop. And they did, slowly, the frost receding from the sleeves of Barry's shirt as her frenzies stilled.

She could have just been imagining it, but his crushing grip loosened ever so slightly on her windpipe. "Why aren't you fighting back?"

And, try as she might, she couldn't hold back the tears that sprang hot to her eyes. "Because you're my Barry Allen," she choked out, "and I can't lose you again."

She wheezed past the pressure, feeling the shockwaves of Barry's vibrations so vicious throughout her body that they threatened to tear her apart. However, at that moment, Iris appeared at the fuzzy edges of her vision. One hand gripped the final arrowhead that had skidded across the pipeline earlier, but the other reached for Barry's shoulder.

"Come back to us, Bar," she said. "Please."

His eyes never left Caitlin, but the words seemed to trigger a release in him. After a few more seconds of debilitating pressure, his hand left Caitlin's throat completely. Both of them breathed heavily for a few moments, and his tremors receded just enough for his next words to sound hollow, but still more like Barry.

"I'm sorry."

"Yes, we know," Iris responded, and her hand moved down his arm where she could safely jab him with the arrowhead.

The effect was instantaneous. All at once Barry seized, as if struck by something immobilizing, his tremors dwindling to nothing. Iris caught his backward slump as Caitlin dragged herself to a sitting position.

"Thanks," she said to Iris.

Iris gave a tight half-nod. "No, thank you. I didn't do anything."

"Well, _anything_ is a bit of a stretch."

Iris' hand found Barry's forehead, which still glistened with sweat. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Let's get him up to the medical bay," Caitlin said. "He should be fine in a bit. Once he gets over the massive hangover. And the extra heaping of self-blame and embarrassment that you know is coming."

"Oh, I'm expecting it," Iris teased. She reached forward for Caitlin's hand. "Are you alright?"

"I—I think so." She knew that Iris understood by the softening of her features, the squeeze in their hands. There would be time to talk later, time for her own embarrassment, time for the fear to resurface and for the future to approach. "It's just a lot to handle at once."

"I know." Iris tried a smile.

"You're not afraid?" Caitlin blurted out. "Of me?"

Iris' lips tightened. "Please, Caitlin. Don't flatter yourself. I know which parts of you to be afraid of. Your intellect. Your pointy medical tools." Caitlin relented with a low chuckle. Iris nodded. "But not this. Because I _know_ you."

Caitlin reached up to swipe away a tear. "Thanks." A nod down at Barry. "Help me get him upstairs?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Caitlin and Jay were talking about the dangers of Velocity 6? That's kind of the idea here. Because, really...crazy Barry is terrifying, as we've seen in the first Arrow crossover.
> 
> There's just one chapter left, which is hard to believe! Thanks again for reading. Please leave comment with your thoughts, and see you Wednesday for the wrap-up!
> 
> Till next time,
> 
> Penn


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at the last chapter of Scales of Magnitude! It's been a wild ride, and, as nervous as I am to share this final chapter, I honestly have had such a blast on this journey. I've never written anything quite like this before, and I hope you had as much fun as I did.
> 
> More notes at the end; for now, enjoy the final chapter!

The beach might have had no end, for all Iris could tell. As her boots crunched in the sand, she remembered those hours, just days earlier, where she'd traced and retraced her steps along the water. By now, much of the debris had been cleared—in the aftermath of the storm and the ensuing clear skies, cleanup teams had begun making progress—and the continual sirens from the city had become less frequent. The way the waves lapped quietly against the shore almost convinced her of normalcy.

"Are you sure this is going work?" she said, tugging at the sleeves of her jacket.

"No reason why it shouldn't," Cisco said, heaving down the disc that Wells had used to open up the time breach. "I mean, besides the possibility of being caught in the time portal. Or being crushed by wormhole compression. Or being stuck in one of Barry's time comas." He quieted quickly when Iris, Caitlin, and Barry shot him a look. "Yeah, no reason."

"It'll work," Barry said firmly. "I know it will."

Two hours in the medical bay had done all of them good—though Cisco would need more time to recover from what looked like a hefty concussion—but none more than Barry. His skin still retained some of the paleness that had come over him from the speed serum, but with the madness gone from his eyes, he might have been the same Barry she watched speed away that day one week ago.

"Barry?" she said suddenly. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The tiniest hint of a frown crossed his face. "Yeah, sure."

Cisco and Caitlin moved together as he jogged toward her. She'd already begun walking, taking slow, deliberate steps away from the time breach.

"What's up?"

"This sounds dangerous," she said.

"Of course it is," Barry said lightly. "When has anything I've done not been dangerous?"

"Right," Iris said, although her stomach twisted at the recentness of her discovery of Barry as the Flash, the fact that she actually didn't know what dangerous antics he had been up to for six months. "I'm just wondering if…if the risk is worth it."

Barry opened his mouth, closed it. The realization spread like a stain across his face, Iris' words visibly sinking in. She launched back in quickly before he could say a word.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't," she said. "I know that you've had weeks in that other timeline—a new life—and that you're close to achieving everything you've ever wanted." _You're not helping your case, West._

"So what are you saying?" Barry teased, though the attempted lightness fell flat.

Heat flooded Iris' eyes. "I don't know. I just—I lost you once already. And I just got you back, and now I'm losing you again."

"Hey." Barry grabbed Iris' hands and encased them in his own. "I'm alive. I will be alive. You know that now."

"You being alive in another timeline doesn't negate the fact that you're dead in this one," Iris said. "It doesn't negate the fact that I'll never see you again. You may as well be dead."

"Come here." She was grateful, then, for Barry's enveloping hug, because it hid her face from him. "The last thing I want is to hurt you. But I—I have to go."

His hand gripped the back of her jacket, and she understood. She understood so completely. So painfully

With a sniff, she gave him one last squeeze and pulled away. This time she took over, cradling his face in her hands. The gesture was familiar, comforting.

"No, you _need_ to go," she said, nodding. "I know that." And she tried to convince herself of that with a smile. "I'll be fine here."

"You will?"

"Eventually." She let out a watery laugh. "I have Caitlin, and Eddie. We'll manage. And I know that somewhere there's an Iris West who has her Barry Allen. That's at least something to hold onto."

"But it's not you."

"No," Iris said. Gently, she tipped Barry's head and placed a kiss on his forehead. "But you're not the only one who has to be brave, are you?"

She smiled tearily and they broke apart, though still walking close on their way back to Cisco and Caitlin. The other two had obviously just engaged in a deep discussion themselves, and Iris caught Cisco surreptitiously rubbing at his eye with a sleeve.

"Are you sure you two will be alright?" Caitlin asked once Barry had taken his place beside Cisco. "You don't think you'll be affected by the jump?"

"If not, we'll have you on the other side to patch us up, right?" Barry quipped uncertainly.

"One of the devices will stay on this side," Cisco said. "Maybe you and old Wellsobard can think up a way to use it to get him home."

Iris thought back to Wells, currently locked up in his very own pipeline cell. At the lingering pain in her abdomen, she decided that Cisco's plan might require a bit more effort than the speedster was worth.

Caitlin coughed past an obviously poorly-disguised sob and looked down quickly. "We still have a serious metahuman problem here, even disregarding Wells. How are we supposed to deal with that without both of you?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Barry said.

Caitlin looked back up sharply. "If you're talking about my…my powers…"

"I wasn't, actually," said Barry. "You're brilliant. Both of you are brilliant. Look at how you took down Mardon. And stopped Wells. Stopped me." He paused, and a flicker of amusement passed over his face. "Though I suppose powers won't hurt."

"We'll manage," Iris said confidently, moving sideways to place a hand on Caitlin's arm. "Don't worry about us."

"Will you remember us?" Caitlin asked suddenly. "Crossing timelines, resetting events…we're ghosts to you already, aren't we?"

Cisco jerked as if struck by uncertainty, or struck by a violent memory, but Barry was firm.

"No, he said. "Never."

Iris set her jaw against a gust of wind, the chill of memory. "You should go," she said. "It's hard to say how long this will stay active."

"Good call." Cisco nudged the black disc with his shoe. "I'm guessing that between Barry and me, this breach is pretty unstable. It should collapse soon." He paused. "Hopefully after we make it through."

The pause lengthened, the four of them stagnated on the sand. The waves lapped to their right, a sound too gentle for what Iris felt. The storm clouds and fierce tides might almost be preferable.

Finally Caitlin broke the silence. "Well, good luck. To…all of you there. You have your hands full as well."

Iris drew back as Barry reached for Caitlin. Caitlin buried her face in his shoulder and his hands found her hair, as if this was a final goodbye for him as it was for her. In a way, she supposed it was; but at least he had familiar faces to go back to.

They separated after what felt like an eternity, and Cisco stepped forward to take Barry's place. As he and Caitlin embraced, both of them visibly shaking with emotion, Iris thought invariably of the future—of her and Caitlin alone on the beach, of both of them pretending none of this had ever happened for the sake of her dad and Barry's, of being forced to move Cisco's body eventually from where it lay in STAR. It was surreal now to consider that, watching a very real and alive Cisco hugging Caitlin now. Caitlin had confessed her fears about her and Iris being ghosts, but now Iris wondered if it was the other way around.

"Be strong," Cisco said to Caitlin once they had pulled apart. "Even without your powers you're badass, but I think you can do some sweet stuff with them now. _Good_ stuff."

Caitlin sniffed. "Any ideas for a nickname?"

"Well, Killer Frost is pretty dope," Cisco said. At Caitlin's look, he raised his eyebrows. "But, just for this once, I'm going to leave it up to your good judgment."

He squeezed her shoulder and moved to the breach with Barry. He and Iris made eye contact once and he nodded a wordless thank you, which she reciprocated. Then he bent to the black device, fiddled with one of the knobs, and stepped back to allow the breach to bloom into existence. Its intensity once again stunned Iris, who instinctively drew closer to Caitlin as if to find protection from the fierce blue glow. The air exploded with color and grew almost solid, a depthless vortex of flickering black and blue clouds.

Cisco went first, his body swept away in a flash of light. Iris sucked in a breath and watched the breach ripple. Barry was next, she knew, and for one more agonizing second she felt time compressing and couldn't help her thoughts crying _why this, please, don't make me go through this again._

Then Barry made eye contact with her, and she remembered the way time had stopped one week ago as he kissed her, and she still felt the heat of his forehead on her lips as she bid him goodbye minutes earlier, and years of history settled around her shoulders like a patchwork quilt. In spite of the swirling breach in the air, she felt the peculiar calm that comes with an ending.

There were no words, just one last transference of a wordless love that Iris would never be able to explain. Then Barry turned, and the void swallowed him up for good.

Caitlin was the one to move forward and switch off the device keeping the breach open. The breach flickered uncertainly for a few seconds, like a lightbulb burning out, then collapsed. All that remained was the faint shimmer that Iris had seen on the beach before.

"This should go away completely soon," Caitlin explained. "Maybe in a few hours. It can't support its own weight much longer."

"Then this will all seem like a bad dream," Iris said. The absence of activity, the absence of Barry, shocked her into a numbness. Caitlin rose.

"Not a bad dream," she said. "Not how I see it."

Iris stepped backward and sat on the piece of driftwood that she'd rested on before. "But definitely a dream, right?"

Caitlin joined her on the log, clearing her throat. Iris studied her face, noting the lines there, the redness under her eyes. Both women were raw. She knew that. There would be a time to heal.

They sat there in quiet for a long time, watching the sun plunge toward the horizon and clutching each other's hands like lifelines. It was just the two of them now, the last survivors of a great secret. Eddie waited unawares at home. Her dad recovered in a hospital bed. Eobard Thawne drew out his day in the confines of a cell. Countless more metahumans roved the streets of the city—of _her_ city—waiting for some kind of sign to strike. With the Flash dead, there was no telling when they might crawl out of their holes to wreak havoc.

After all, Iris reasoned, natural disasters and grief brought out remarkable things from people.

A light breeze brushed past them, and Caitlin said, "What do we do now?"

The future was not an endpoint, Iris knew now. It was a line that stretched out endlessly, to a place somewhere past that horizon they now stared at, and, indeed, further yet.

She tightened her fingers around Caitlin's and smiled. "Now we go be spectacular."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't end without thanking each and every one of you who have taken the time to read and respond to this work. I realize it's not a conventionally-appealing fanfic, but you guys have given it so much love and attention. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I, of course, welcome feedback on this chapter, and the fic as a whole, no matter how far in the future you may be reading it!
> 
> New projects! I am currently working on a new longfic, which should be completed and ready to post by the end of the hiatus (I realize I unfortunately timed Scales of Magnitude to both start and end in hiatuses!). In the meantime, I hope to post a few one-shot stories that have been brewing, but if you have any requests or prompts, I am always more than happy to take them! I have particularly taken to writing short prompts on my Tumblr, pennflinn, so hit me up there if you have any suggestions.
> 
> Once again, thanks for sticking with me. Lady power, always.
> 
> Much love, and till next time,
> 
> Penn


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